Hostage
by Sopih
Summary: Korra ran, and Amon chased, and he caught her as she fled—her and Tarrlok, taken for some purpose that neither understands. But things never quite work out as planned, even for Amon… Episode 9 AU. Amorra and Korrlok, which should one day become a beautiful Amorralok butterfly.
1. ONE

*flop*

I said Friday, and here we are. Here it is. Because I think it helps the flow, chapters here will be two combined of the ones I wrote on tumblr, also edited, tweaked a little. As one last note, I wrote a different Amon in this fic than I did in my other fic. This Amon is less unstable. (I think it's one of the best things about him as a character, that he's so mysterious that there's all this room for headcanons and interpretations.)

Without further ado, _LET'S AMORRALOK SHIT UP_

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

Korra heard Tarrlok moving outside; he'd gone up half the stairs and then come back down to pace. For _hours_. It was grating on her nerves, and she had bitten her tongue at least once to stop herself shouting at him. She was bad at being patient, though, and sooner or later she was going to snap, and then he'd have something to worry about.

A door crashed open upstairs, and Korra shot up so fast that she hit her head with a loud clang. "Ow!" she said, rubbing at her head. "_Ow_."

"Be quiet," Tarrlok snapped, sounding… afraid? Korra perked up. Maybe it was Tenzin and the others! They'd already found her! She opened her mouth to shout for them—and then the cage was opening, opening up, and proper light was falling across her face. She blinked, blinded by it, and when the dots cleared she was looking up into _Tarrlok's_ face. "Get out," he said, tense. "It's Amon."

Korra's stomach seemed to fall bodily out of her, the swooping feeling in her belly acutely uncomfortable. "No," she said distantly, incredibly. "It can't be." Tarrlok sneered at her, straightening his clothes compulsively—he was nervous too, she noticed, oh _good_—and turned away, standing in a smooth, powerful waterbending stance.

"It _is_. Get ready to fight. I let you out for a reason, Avatar."

The door to the basement crashed open, and Korra looked up sickly to see _him_ standing in it, haloed by the light. "The Avatar and Councilman Tarrlok. Odd company," Amon remarked, sounding very dryly entertained. Turning to the Equalists, he said, "I'll take care of him. Deal with the Avatar. Do not underestimate her." Korra looked around urgently. This was too close, this place. There was no space to _fight_, she had no _water_. She had to get away. Run. Her pride protested, and she quashed it. There was no time for pride here.

As the Equalists came down the stairs, Korra hissed "Jump" to Tarrlok; she should at least warn him, even if he _was_ a turd. He turned to her, looking irritated and arrogant and exasperated.

"Do _what_—?" he began, and then Korra brought down her foot as hard as she could on the packed earth underneath her to send the floor bucking and rippling. The stairs groaned and _twisted_ sideways, and she hoped that she'd sent Amon flying but didn't wait to find out. She didn't look for Tarrlok either, running blindly_._

It was freezing outside; the wind whistled over her skin. Blind panic ricocheted through her, making her stumble, propelling her onwards although her legs began instantly to burn painfully with anxiety. Her ears strained for the sound of footsteps. Nothing. Nothing. She hoped, with every fibre of her being, but the growing voice of fear told her she wasn't going to be so lucky. Everything hurt. She couldn't stop. She had to keep going, keep _going_. If she stopped she was lost.

Something that sounded like thunder echoed behind her, and Korra made the mistake of turning, craning her neck to see. Instantly, her legs buckled underneath her and she fell, tumbling headlong down the snowy hill. She crashed, her skin ripping and tearing with impact as she hit things—things that felt like rocks, trees, a whole mountain—and ground to a halt. Weakly, determined, she pulled herself to her feet, to see what looked like an _avalanche _coming down the hill at her. She felt the blood drain out of her head with shock, stumbled again and fell against the tree. An _avalanche_.

Korra breathed in to steady herself, and raised her arms to bend. She could survive an avalanche. There were stories. It had been done. _By masters_, something whispered to her. She refused to listen. No, no, she was _not_ going to die alone on this hill, it was _not_ going to happen, it couldn't. As it came closer, she saw something in the middle. She squinted, distracted momentarily by surprise, and saw a human being in there—_Amon_? For a moment, she couldn't reconcile the image; was he trying to outrun the avalanche? Surely not. He couldn't be that fast—

She looked closer, arms dropping to her side in shock. He was bending the snow. He wasn't outrunning the avalanche—he was _making_ it. Amon was a bender—that wasn't possible, though—but she was seeing it right in front of her, and now _damn_, the avalanche was on her and she was without protection—

Her body moved automatically, snapping into autopilot, and she decided to run again. A normal person wouldn't have a hope, but if she propelled herself forward… Bending the snow around her feet, Korra skidded off. She could make ice—but what if she slipped, no, not a good idea, better to go on this way, push herself on—but he was gaining on her. Taking in the freezing air had become painful at some point, and she wheezed, nearly choking on her own spit in panic. With a moment of dreadful simplicity, she knew that she'd lost, and the avalanche came down on her head.

She was knocked explosively off her feet and the snow beat down on her. If she cried out, it was utterly lost amongst the roaring, and she choked, and she gave herself over to abject panic, knowing that she was screaming and unable to hear it. She wouldn't die here, killed by Amon—a _waterbender_—and then everything became still and she could hear herself, shrieking like a child. She was abruptly cut off when a hole was punched above her, the snow around her becoming compact and icy to hold her like a cocoon.

Korra looked up into Amon's masked visage, and her throat went dry. "You," she croaked, hoarse from screaming. "You're a… a waterbender, you've been lying—" Halted by a fit of painful coughing, she bent over with the pain in her chest. "Lying all this time," she managed to gasp, "lying to everyone—"

"Be quiet," he said, his voice still and calm. "I assume you recognise that this time, there will be no getting away, unless you consider dying here a victory."

"You're not going to leave me here," she said, nearly throwing herself to her feet in panic and abruptly collapsing again. _Calm down_, she told herself. _Breathe. You can't think like this. Be smart. You can't outfight him like this, so _be smart_. _"You wouldn't leave me here," she added, sounding a little less frightened.

"I could," he said simply, nearly bored. That had to be an act. Being so casual about a major block to his plans didn't fit, somehow. He was trying to scare her. "But I'm not going to. No, you'd make a much better hostage." Korra shivered, remembering Tarrlok's words about taking her as a hostage. She almost preferred that to this—maybe with Tarrlok, she would have had a chance of escaping, but with all the Equalists—_calm down_, she repeated to herself. _You can freak out later_. "Don't fight. It would be pointless." She glared up at him, and considered spitting. She discarded that as a bad idea. Spitting upwards would mean basically spitting on herself. It could wait.

Without warning, the snow underneath her rose, propelling her violently up through the hole—her left shoulder hitting the snow, compacted hard as rock—into the dim light of the forest. Amon looked utterly unruffled by the chase, to her disgust. _She_ was in an awful state, her hair half out of its arrangement, clothes ripped and skin torn in places by her fall. Abruptly, while she was glumly considering her appearance, he leapt forward and stabbed at her with his hands, violently jabbing points on her body. Korra knew what had happened, but tried anyway; her bending was gone.

Roughly, he grabbed her arm and began to drag her along with him. "Hey," she protested, feeling the tiredness course through her, the result of all the adrenaline kicking in, "hey, I can walk by myself!" He would actually pull her over if this continued, she thought, definitely not going to say that. She could not handle falling on her butt in front of someone who terrified her. It would just be… too humiliating.

"I am aware of that," he said. "This simplifies things, however." Korra's legs nearly buckled underneath her with tiredness, at the pace he was setting, and she growled impatiently at her own weakness. "Be _quiet_," he repeated, sounding as if he was being pushed towards somewhere that it would be better not to push, and Korra made sure that any stumbles after those were quieter. When she fell to her knees, gasping with the pain and the frustration and the irritation, tears building in her eyes, he stopped. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears and be defiant and strong. He looked down at her, utterly impassive in the mask, and exhaled. Just that noise put her on edge. It was a noise that spoke of patience reaching limits, attempts to keep calm. Korra made an attempt to get back to her feet, proud, and fell straight back down, cursing. His grip on her arm remained bruising, and yanked her already injured shoulder agonisingly.

Amon exhaled long and hard, and picked her bodily up, throwing her over his shoulders. "Hey!" she said, shocked out of her reticence. "Hey, stop it! I can walk—I will walk—put me _down_." She petered out tearfully, swallowing to keep her composure, fragmented and tattered as it was.

"I will render you unconscious if you can't be quiet," he said, and she shut her mouth mutinously. "If you can't walk so that we'll be back before _tomorrow_, then I will carry you, unless you genuinely wish to die out here." It was excruciatingly uncomfortable riding along over his shoulders; his shoulder pads digging into her, and his hands holding on too tightly. Her head bobbed merrily along, all the blood rushing giddily into her extremities. Now that she'd stopped moving she simply felt _awful_, and every step of the walk back—however much faster it admittedly was—jolted through what felt like her very bones.

When they at last arrived back at the house in the woods, she was ready to faint, or ready to fall asleep and never wake up and maybe this would all be a nightmare. The expression of the Lieutenant, though, obscenely pleased to see her trussed up like some animal for a roast, was too… hurtful to have dreamt up. Korra would never have dreamed of that expression being on somebody's face. Sure, she'd never liked him and she sure as hell didn't care about him, but it was… uncomfortable seeing someone else be that pleased about her being beaten up.

Amon dropped Korra to the ground, and she curled into a ball there, trying to make herself as small as possible. Conversation occurred, somewhere over her head; she heard none of it. Hands lifted her up and the ground swooped out from underneath her, the stars cascading over her like a waterfall. She was tired. She wanted to go home, but the hands that held her were cruel and they lifted her as if they were holding a child, swinging her around with abandon. A clang startled her out of some of the fatigued stupor, and she blinked, clearing the fog. It was a van, an armoured van, and they were putting her into it.

"No," she said weakly, and "no" again. She was ignored utterly, and carelessly thrown into the back. The floor was smooth and polished and Korra skidded across it, unable to stop herself, until she hit something relatively soft. There was a grunt, echoing oddly around the tiny space, and then the doors closed with a forbidding slam and the van began to move.

"So you didn't get away," Tarrlok said, sounding just as tired as she felt, but strangely pleased. "Good. You don't deserve to get away scot-free. Good." Korra didn't say anything. She stared at the walls. Metal. That wasn't a weapon. Korra had never learned how to metalbend—and, oh, she was forgetting that he'd blocked her chi paths anyway. There was no way that she could bend at the moment. _Why hadn't he taken her bending away?_ she wondered helplessly. In that moment, he could have; she'd been utterly incapacitated. Why hadn't he done it? Had Tarrlok had his bending taken away? She glanced at Tarrlok, and realised with a jolt that she was still lying against him, and then it instantly became deathly uncomfortable and she had to move _right then_.

Feebly, Korra flopped about a little. She hadn't really gone anywhere. Not too discouraged, she tried again, but it was as if all the energy in her had gone, completely spent. She was limp as a noodle, with no power in any of her muscles. But this was horrible and strange, lying this close to a human being that she was fairly sure she loathed, or at least really _really_ didn't like. She'd never been this close to anyone, really, not for an extended period of time, and _Tarrlok_… he was about forty!

Glumly, Korra realised that she was just going to have to deal with it. One last try—wasn't going to get her anywhere—and then she'd give up the ghost and accept her lot. Just one last try. This time, she flopped slightly more energetically, but went no further. In any case, the van turned a corner at the moment and she slid right back with a grunt of irritation to hit Tarrlok again. "Stop wiggling," he said irritably, and she considered with horror what she might be doing by wiggling about. She stopped, scowling, blushing hideously profusely, and grumpily tried to accept her lot. She wasn't very good at it.

It wasn't long before the doors were opening again, and someone laughed coarsely—some man that Korra didn't know—and hands were pulling her forward again. "The Avatar and the Councilman got a bit cosy," he called to someone Korra couldn't see, her head lolling back, and that person laughed as well. "Where am I going with this?" _This_, she thought, unable to hide her dismay. That person thought of her as an _object_; she'd been demoted even from Avatar, a function, to… a thing. They were probably going to throw her straight into prison and let her rot there. Uneasily, she remembered Katara's tale about Hama, and the days of the brutality of the Imperial Fire Nation; this didn't seem like it was going to be much better.

"I'll take them both," Amon said, that smooth, deep voice sending shivers up her spine. "They will be my private responsibility."

"You sure?" the Lieutenant called, sounding further off. Korra was tired of not being able to see anything, and tried to push forward. Instead she simply fell, only supported by the arms of the man holding her up, and hit the floor with a resounding thud. Muffled laughter greeted this, quiet and smothered, and she burned with indignation.

"I'm sure." She was being passed from person to person. "If you could help me transporting the Councilman, however, I'd be grateful." He was slightly less… high with these people, less grand. It was odd. She'd never really thought of him as a person, but here he was having conversations with people, not big speeches, and… ugh, it was too strange. She didn't like it. She'd rather that he remained the mask.

Tarrlok didn't protest either; they had both temporarily given up their dignity. There was no point in fighting for it. Their enemies had too much power at the moment to even try something.

It was dark, wherever they were, lamps shining out the only light from the walls. They moved through pools of brightness into the shade again, and the rhythm nearly lulled Korra to sleep. She was so _tired. _Was she ever going to see home again? No, no, she couldn't cry right now, she couldn't afford to think of that. Think of… nice things. Or at least, pleasant things. Things that weren't here and now and this situation.

When the door juddered open, she was jerked out what must have been a dizzy, dull doze. She tried to squint ahead, but it was dark—and when somebody flicked a light on, it was suddenly too bright. She turned her head away, blinking to dispel the dots dancing in front of her eyes. Amon moved forwards again, and then she was being dropped altogether down—support disappeared for a moment, and she fell through the air, arms flailing out for help, one hitting him—onto something… soft-ish. A bed? It was a bed, she realised, spreading her hands weakly across it. Amon was already moving away, and she watched him go sleepily, to stand in the middle of the room. The Lieutenant was dumping Tarrlok across the room, with considerably more contempt, onto another bed.

Korra looked from one side of the room to the other, mouth open in dismay. "You can't leave me here with him," she protested, voice thin and cracking like a little girl's.

"The prison cells are always open," the Lieutenant said viciously, and she turned away. That face, so full of loathing, was too hard to look at.

"You may leave," Amon said evenly to him. "My thanks." Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant—did he even have a name?—departed with dark looks at both of them. Tarrlok had moved to sit up with some presence on his bed, staring calmly at Amon. He'd regained some of his composure, it seemed. "You will both remain here until I see fit," their captor said quite coolly. "Fighting will be punished. Damage to the premises is frowned upon. Behave, and you may see conditions improve."

"What are you keeping us here for?" Korra burst out with, flinging herself up to sitting and regretting it instantly by the way that her head swum. "What are you doing—with him—I can't stay with him!"

Amon ignored her totally. "There is a bathroom through that door," he continued, pointing to a small door set between the beds in the otherwise fairly empty room. "Please use it. You are both in appalling condition."

"I'm not taking any baths while I'm sharing a room with him!" Korra cried. "Put me in a prison cell. See if I care! I'm not sharing a room with _him_."

"Flattered, to be sure," Tarrlok said dryly, quietly, and she glared at him.

"Shut up," she snapped viciously. "This is _all_ your fault, and you know it."

"I seem to recall that you were the one who attacked _me_."

"You arrested my friends!"

Amon cut through their bickering like a parent with squabbling children. "Do you object so much, Avatar?"

"Yes," Korra said, her mouth set in a mulish line. "I do. Throw me in prison, I don't care."

"Don't be foolish," Tarrlok warned her cautiously. She simply threw him a loathing glare, and crossed her arms mutinously across her chest.

"Regrettably for you, I would prefer to keep a close eye on the both of you. You will not be moving out of this room. Attempt to co-exist, at the very least. Fighting _will_ be punished." He stood there, almost bored, definitely sounding it, patronising and spouting nonsense at her. Korra scowled. She wasn't staying with Tarrlok.

"I can't share a bathroom with him, though," she said, clutching at straws. "I can't."

"Why?" Amon inquired, turning towards her. It was curious; even though she couldn't his face, the force of his gaze was almost a physical thing. "Is it your modesty? Are you so squeamish?" Korra nodded stubbornly. She could have sworn that she heard a sigh, and waited, on edge, for his retribution. "I don't have time for these childish games," he said eventually, irritation clearly coming through in his tone. "Is this something you're absolutely unwilling to bear?" She nodded again, more rigorously. "Very well, then."

He strode across the room and Korra squawked, undignified, in surprise. "I told you not to be foolish," Tarrlok murmured, sounding merely exasperated, as Amon physically dragged her into the next room.

"Hey! What are you doing? Let me go! Hey!" Korra sputtered, weak legs nearly giving out entirely. She was too tired, way too panicked and frightened out of her mind but filtering it through cockiness so that she wasn't screaming her head off at the fact that _Amon_ had his hand locked around her _arm_— The sound of water started up, and she had a second to look around in confusion before she was pushed firmly into a stream of freezing cold water. Korra shrieked, and babbled incoherent things, probably swearing uncontrollably, trying to get away once more. Amon's hands held her there, until in her panic she managed to inhale some of the water and turned to coughing violently, the fight going out of her. The water became even colder, and Korra stood there, sopping, keeping herself up only through sheer force of will.

He kept her there for minutes under the water, until she was soaked, and then turned it off. She was frozen, shivering, when he yanked her back out again. He dragged her back into the other room, where Tarrlok remained sitting upright on his bed with only a mildly curious, smooth expression—_politician,_ Korra thought, channelling loathing into that word—and once again she was being shoved back down.

Korra sat on the bed, stunned into silence, painfully cold and tired. "Modesty is a luxury," Amon said softly, threateningly, his voice reverberating through her. "Are you able to bear the indignity of sharing a bathroom?" Slowly, burning with anger and pride, Korra made herself nod. She swallowed to try and make it go down easier. "Good," he said, and the shiver that ran through her was nothing to do with the cold. She was so tired of being afraid of him. He… terrified her, the very thought of him as well as the physical reality. "Good_bye_." And he walked out of the room, shutting the door with a dull click that must be a lock bolting them in.

"Well," Tarrlok mused, breaking the silence and sounding remarkably calm, "It could be worse." Korra looked over at him, ready to cry, furious and frightened and physically exhausted.

"How could it be _worse_?" she asked through gritted teeth, imagining kicking him in the groin.

"Could be bunk-beds."

* * *

Korra was going to go round the bend sometime soon. The tedium didn't seem to be getting to him, lying on his bed with his hands behind his head, legs crossed casually. He kept humming, utterly tunelessly. Korra hated humming. Tarrlok was unbearable to begin with. Together the two made one painful combo, and all she wanted to do was _sleep_.

She must have drifted off, because she found herself jerking awake as the door opened to reveal an elderly man, who bowed shallowly and straightened up to look right ahead, avoiding eye contact with either of them. "Councilman Tarrlok and Avatar Korra," he announced, "you will be dining with Amon tonight."

"What," Korra said flatly, sitting up.

She was ignored. "These clothes are provided for you. Our leader said"—he hesitated—"those who are unclean won't be eating." Studiously looking at the floor, he neatly dropped two different sets of clothing onto the bed. Korra stared at them.

"But how can he eat with us without taking off the mask—?" she began irritably, cut off abruptly by the servant.

"You have roughly two hours," he said, bowing again and hurrying from the room as if he could bear to be there no longer. Korra threw her clothing at the closing door in a petulant huff, and turned to Tarrlok to see if he thought this was as ridiculous as she did. He was still lying there, not having moved at all, the only change a slightly more thoughtful expression. Then he caught her gaze and she looked away instantly, crossing her arms.

"Well," he announced, making her jump—he'd been so _quiet_ this whole time—"if you don't mind, I'll be taking the shower first." She looked back up again, her mouth open. He got to his feet with ease, rolling elegantly off the bed to pad across the floor. Korra shifted back automatically, her distrust wrestling with disbelief as to whether she wanted to engage with him at all or whether she was going to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. Disbelief won, and she scooted back forwards again—didn't want him thinking that she was afraid of him, after all—to perch on the edge of the bed.

"You can't be serious," she said shortly.

Tarrlok looked back at her as he opened the door to the bathroom, shrugging. "I, for one, feel revolting in what I'm wearing currently. If you want to stay in your own filth, if that makes you happy, then you do that. I am going to shower and turn up looking my best. Clothes can be as good as armour. Not that _you'd_ know that, with what you wear…" He began to take off his jacket, and Korra struggled with her options again, this time between protesting or remaining quiet. _Modesty is a luxury_, Amon's voice echoed in her head, and she sank down onto the covers, grumbling all she wanted inside her own mind where nobody could tell her off. Tarrlok threw the jacket back onto his bed, where it slid slowly off the floor, and Korra stared at the carpet pattern.

_Don't look_, she told herself as the noises of rustling fabric echoed around the room. _Don't look, don't look don't look aaaargh you _looked. She had glanced over _just in time_ to see him taking off his shirt and _aaaargh _he was way too in-shape for someone way older than she was—her gaze flitted over his back, muscles shifting smoothly—she was only trying to know her enemy, it was perfectly natural to want to know how strong he was so that she could fight him—but oh _whoa_ he was in-shape. Even _she_ didn't have muscles that defined—

He had turned to face her with an expression that she was fairly sure was purely dodgy. She herself had no way of telling because she was currently fixated on the floor, her face burning red. Wasn't he about double her age? Okay, he was muscled, it was understandable that she'd be kind of hypnotised by that because she didn't see that many shirtless men ever in the South Pole, it had just surprised her—she hadn't even seen Mako shirtless, not really—and she was tired anyway, she wasn't feeling well. Yeah. That was about right. It was all fine.

"If you stare," he drawled, opening the door to the shower and interrupting her internal monologue, "am I allowed to stare back?"

"No," she snapped, all her calm forgotten. He shrugged, and she threw herself onto her front, burying her head into the pillow. The shower started up, and she felt safe to sit up again, only to catch sight of the door still open with a full view into the bathroom—

Growling underneath her breath, she got up and stomped across the room to shut the door with a resounding slam. Listening out to hear something in reply—a yelp, a laugh, a shout—she deduced that it was safe and no retribution would be coming, and lay down to try and meditate. There was nothing else to do in this place. She actually made some process, trying to clear her mind and calm herself down, establish a cool centre to draw on in moments of temper, until the door to the bathroom banged open again against the wall and Tarrlok emerged.

His chest was hairy, she observed—totally clinically, absolutely impartially—and then she grabbed her change of clothing from where it lay discarded and fled into the steamed up ensuite, slamming the door once more.

* * *

The clothes were all right, nothing too awful in terms of aesthetics—frills, lace, ruffles were absent—but they were uncomfortable, and that was Korra's major criterion when it came to clothing. She sat bolt upright in a folding chair that she'd unearthed from below the bed, attempting to meditate and failing miserably. It was a little too tight around the chest, which meant that she was having some trouble breathing. It did cover everything, which she was glad for, but it was clearly made for somebody with a much lesser bust.

It was Water Tribe apparel, which she found puzzling but did appreciate at least a little; Tarrlok too was wearing fancy Water Tribe clothing, Northern-style for the both of them. She wouldn't have expected that, though. Perhaps at best she would have expected Amon or the person who had chosen—she didn't think that he had done it personally, somehow—the sort of fusion style that the people of Republic City wore, the mixing and matching of colours and patterns. Being given something that was nearly her own culture was thoughtful on a level that seemed odd.

She was ready to ricochet off the walls by the time someone came to collect them, ready to knock out that man and flee regardless of not knowing the location or what she was going to do at all. To her disappointment, it was not the servant at the door but a group of Equalists; one warned her not to move, and blocked her chi before she could have even actually started forwards. Okay, she wasn't going to be running around without her bending, that didn't seem at all clever. For now, she subsided, grumbling, and shuffled along in the middle of their guard. Tarrlok offered her his arm. She sniffed and turned away with her nose in the air, and saw him shrug to himself out of the corner of her eye. He was still trying to get them to be allies. She wasn't ready to be his ally any time soon. He was a stinking pile of dung that had kidnapped her and nearly whisked her away altogether.

They were ushered through a grand pair of doors, wide open to reveal a relatively simple but well decorated dining room beyond. The table must be worth a fortune, she noted, looking over the carvings. That was good, careful work. Where had he got it? It was long, probably intended to sit a generous number of people, set only for three places. Two were roughly halfway down, facing each other, empty, and the third was at the very head of the table—occupied by Amon.

Korra's question about his mask was answered; he had swapped it for a different one, which covered the majority of his face but left his mouth, only his mouth, open to the air. That mouth was currently curled into a small smile as Tarrlok came to a graceful halt and Korra stumbled over her skirts. She glared at him, heart hammering in her chest. _You're not afraid_, she told herself, and then when it became apparent that that was a silly lie, she added, _it's okay to be scared. _They waited on his whim, and Korra tried to breathe more deeply. She didn't think it was possible but she was irrationally determined that he wouldn't hear her pulse, so irregular and speedy, signalling her discomfort.

"Please, sit," he said, after a moment that felt far too long. Korra stumbled again, this time over Tarrlok on her way to the table.

"Do you _mind_?" she hissed, forgetting herself for a moment in sheer irritation. He glowered back at her and she nearly, nearly stuck out her tongue until she remembered where she was, and who was sitting up at the end of the table. Instead, she sat down with her best attempt at demureness, smoothing out imaginary crinkles in her skirts and looking at the place set for her. The chopsticks weren't the disposable sort you got in the street; these looked _expensive_, and her sense that this was all far too strange and off-kilter grew.

The Equalists departed at a glance from Amon, one splitting off to go in a different direction, and Korra watched them with her heart sinking further in her chest. She'd rather have that chase all over again than _this_, this weird faux politeness where they all had to sit around awkwardly and eat _dinner _together. Still, she thought as her stomach rumbled, at least he was feeding them. She was hungry from all the exhaustion of the chase.

"I see that you're still not getting along," Amon remarked, breaking the silence so suddenly that Korra jumped. "I would have thought that allying would be more to your advantage, but it is amusing that you remain at each other's throats…" Korra sat, more and more ill at ease, twisting her hands in her lap. Tarrlok was sitting perfectly still, she saw with a glance, poised and polite as if he were at a public party, paying careful attention to their host. "As long as there's no damage to property, snipe at each other all you want. Preferably not over dinner, however…"

"What are you doing?" Korra blurted out before she could think it through, clapping her hands over her face as soon as the words had left it.

He turned his head in her direction, that mouth slowly curling into a sardonically amused smile. "Living dangerously," he said ironically, taking a sip from his glass. The wine looked like blood for a moment, oddly thin blood coursing around the rim of the glass. "Living dangerously," he repeated more quietly, more thoughtfully. Korra glanced over at Tarrlok to see how he was taking this and saw him frowning ever so slightly, leaning over the table. Then he shook his head and settled back again, expression resolving into that politely interested façade.

Thankfully, at that moment the food arrived and Korra dug into it with gusto, glad to have something with which to distract herself. Tarrlok looked repulsed at her behaviour; she scowled at him and made sure to eat even more enthusiastically. She didn't look at Amon, not sure that she wanted to know how he would react to her appalling table manners, and not really caring either way.

The downside to her prodigious appetite was that she finished far too early and sat there with nothing to do, staring hollowly at her absolutely empty bowl. It had been nice, she knew that much… but what had it actually been? She wasn't sure that she'd even registered what it was, not really tasted it. In fact, she felt faintly queasy now. She couldn't tell if it was the company or if it was that she'd just bolted a generous portion in roughly a minute. Korra bit her lip for a moment, then discarded it as a nervous tic—she couldn't look afraid, even if she was—and focused on her breathing instead.

"So," Tarrlok said conversationally, breaking the silence, "do you have any plans as far as we're concerned? I assume you won't be leaving us to rot after going to all the effort of capturing two… extremely high profile individuals." Korra heard the threat in there; not their threat, locked up and pretty much harmless, but the general, looming menace of their respective friends and allies. She blinked once, twice, three times in quick succession, powerfully curious about how Amon was going to react but so _nervous_ about what he might do...

The strange, aloof man at the end of the table put down his chopsticks slowly, and Korra tensed. Was he getting ready to fight? When he spoke, however, his voice was just as smooth and calm as it ever was, very little emotion present at all. "Unfortunately for you," he replied, picking his chopsticks back up after a moment of reflection and taking a delicate bite of his food, "your friends are under the impression that your disappearances are linked, and nothing to do with the Equalists. A group led by the airbending master and Bei Fong broke into a base some time earlier, before you came into my custody, and are convinced that the Councilman is solely responsible for the Avatar's disappearance. Disappointing, I'm sure, but it means that rescue will not be coming any time soon." He smiled, smaller and more satisfied. It was incredibly disconcerting to see that there really was a man behind the mask, one who ate and smiled; one who had a sense of _humour_.

"You don't know them," Korra said, more quiet and less brash than she had been. "They'll find me. They won't stop until they find me."

"We'll see," Amon said, in a denigrating tone that told her exactly what he thought of that.

Tarrlok tried again. "I have money, you know." He leaned forward, trying to engage Amon. The other man didn't look away from Korra. She wished that he would. That tiny, pleased smile was really beginning to grate on her nerves. "I could pay you a hefty sum to release me. No reprisal, better laws for non-benders—I could repeal the curfew, for example. I have power. I can bring you what you _want_, if you let me go." His expression was far too earnest and ingratiating to be real.

"I don't want your money," Amon said, exhaling heavily. "It's not your power that I'm interested in, either."

"What is it, then?" Korra asked, fiddling with a napkin, shredding it underneath the table so that tiny flakes of tissue dropped around her legs like snow. "What _do_ you want?"

"For now, that's private. Perhaps in some time, when I feel that you're… ready." Well, that sounded ominous. Korra made a face down at her lap. Abruptly, Amon rose from his seat, the chair shooting back against the wall. Tarrlok barely stirred, but Korra jumped again. "Stay for desert if you want," Amon muttered. "Perhaps—another time." He strode from the room, pushing through the double doors with an impressive sweep of his arms.

The silence that settled over the room was thick and thoughtful. Korra wondered, with curiosity so powerful that it was a physical ache, what on earth had made Amon suddenly disappear like that—if her friends really were chasing after a completely false lead—whether Tarrlok was at all trustworthy as an ally, if she should even consider it for her own wellbeing—

"Well, if there's desert we may as well as stay for it," Tarrlok said with an amicable, utterly false grin.

* * *

Korra woke from her sleep feeling uneasy again. Something had woken her. She didn't know what it was, but she knew being jerked from slumber; this wasn't a natural awakening. Then the groan echoed around for a second time—that was the sound that had woken her—and she sat bolt upright. Was someone else in here? Were they trying to frighten her? Just that noise had sent shivers over her—what _was_ it?

A roar shattered the uncomfortable stillness—a guttural scream. Korra cried out, the sound ripped from her in shock, and rocked to her feet. Her hands outstretched automatically, ready to punch holes in anything that threatened her, and then she realised that the noises were coming from Tarrlok's side of the room. Breathing hard, hard, hard, she untangled herself from her sheets and crept over in the dark. They had turned off the lights after they'd agreed to go to sleep, their first mutual decision without a fight—

Something dealt a powerful blow to her knee, and her legs went out from underneath her. She stifled curses, sure that that had been Tarrlok flailing—if this was all a joke then she was going to kill him, fighting punished be damned. Somehow, though, she didn't… she didn't think that this was a joke. He sounded… afraid, primally and childishly frightened. That was an infant speaking with the voice of a man. She shuddered as he began groaning again, and words emerged out of the mess of sound.

"No," he said, "…_nooo_," breath rattling in his chest. He must be thrashing about judging by the ripping that was coming from his general direction—_damage to the premises is frowned upon_—and she just wanted it to _stop_, he didn't sound right, he didn't sound _human_. She reached out for him, and was accordingly smacked in the arm. Damn, he was powerful, even in his sleep. It was understandable, given the muscles that she'd seen earlier. "_Father_," he said, nearly sobbing, "father—don't—don't _want _to—"

He hit her in the face as she tried to lean over where she thought he might be, and she knew that blow was going to bruise in the morning. Cursing, patience running out, she jumped onto the bed altogether and shouted back. "Tarrlok!" she bawled. "Wake up!" She found one arm and pinned it down, gritting her teeth as she was hauled about. "WAKE _UP_." Her voice was going hoarse, but she'd found the other arm—then he kicked her, shoving her off the bed altogether.

Inordinately furious, she rose up like an avenging spirit and pounced on him, her anger fuelling her in a way that simple irritation couldn't. The darkness had settled into gloom; she could make out his shape. This time, she pinioned his windmilling arms with ease and shouted right into his face. "TARRLOK," she bellowed. With a yell that was definitely _him_ rather than the possessed shrieks he'd been screaming, he tried to get up and head butted her.

Lights danced in front of her line of sight, and Korra let go. She fell off the bed _again_, dizzily registering exasperation before she hit the floor heavily—her hands were still tightly gripping Tarrlok's arms, and she didn't let go as she fell, pulling him down with her and then they were both on the floor, sprawled across each other, and her head _really_ hurt and this had better damned be worth it for all the pain.

"What?" he breathed, head somewhere near her shoulder. "…what's going on?"

"Good question," she said sourly. His nose brushed her chin, his hand skimming across her arm, and then he was rising up with a grunt of exertion. She watched his fuzzy outline from the floor, one hand to her poor aching head.

"Tell me what happened," he ordered, sounding more like his obnoxious self. She rolled her eyes, knowing that he couldn't see it, and sighed, pulling herself up with a great deal of effort. "How on earth did this happen?"

"You were having a nightmare or something," she said, scooting away from him so that they weren't quite so close. "Shouting. It was annoying," she added, scratching at her arm. "So I tried to wake you up. You hit me. A lot. Then you woke up. Will that do as a summary do or do you need a diagram?" He ignored her sarcasm, and if she squinted she could see him steadily getting to his feet, looming above her now.

"Shouting about what?" he asked. His voice was far too casual, one more act that Tarrlok couldn't quite manage convincingly. Korra considered it, though, and decided that she didn't want to be cruel about this. Yakone… he hadn't seemed like a very nice person, to say the least, and however unpleasant and disgusting Tarrlok was, he still had nightmares about the man—it crossed her mind that this might be a trick, and she was distracted for a moment… no, she'd heard him _scream_, and Tarrlok wasn't the best actor, it couldn't be a trick, he wasn't that good a liar.

"Your father."

She heard the intake, the hiss of breath, and then Tarrlok began to pace restlessly across the room. He was muttering things quietly to himself. "_Father_," he said, musing. She watched warily, but he seemed to have calmed down. "Father—Amon. Amon… how? No…"

Korra was tired. All she wanted was to go back to Air Temple Island and sleep in her own bed. Tarrlok was just pacing and pacing, and it was lulling her gently until she was drifting in and out—

"Tell nobody about this," he was hissing, and she was sure that this was real, he was shaking her. "Do you hear me? Nobody learns about my night time adventures—_nobody_."

Korra mumbled something to make him go away, and then everything was blessedly simply in sleep.


	2. TWO

I meant to upload this for two days running, and kept forgetting. My bad!

* * *

**TWO**

* * *

Korra's neck hurt abominably, and she was cold. Waking up was not a pleasant experience. Her face hurt, too, and her knee ached as she banged it against the floor in the death throes of sleep. She groaned, so not ready to be awake; not ready to face the new day after how well _yesterday_ had gone_._

Looking up, she could see Tarrlok sat up neatly in the chair she'd produced yesterday. He didn't seem to have slept at all, the dark shadows underneath his eyes attesting to that. He was hunched ever so slightly over his fingers, interlocked in a steeple that he was resting his chin on. He was not looking at anything in particular, gaze glazed over, but came alive as she looked him over as if he'd felt her glance at him. Their eyes met for a second, and they looked away at nearly the same time.

"You've bruised," he said, and she nodded. "Badly." She shrugged. If he was trying to strike up conversation, it wasn't going to work. He'd been briefly sympathetic with his nightmares; that had been entirely ruined by the "tell nobody speech" he'd thrown at her afterwards. "How are you going to explain it?" he asked, clearly impatient with her lack of enthusiasm. She'd only just woken up, and the morning was a horrible time, what did he expect?

"Don't know," she mumbled, beginning to shift. Okay, she was going to be awfully stiff, it was probably a good idea to stretch as soon as possible. The pain was inevitable. She stretched out her arms with a groan of relief, feeling her back expand gloriously, pointing her toes and drawing in each foot to her butt then extending them again—halfway through, she caught Tarrlok's gaze caught on her, not even trying to hide it. "Do you mind?" she said, releasing her arms and sinking back down with a feeling of discomfort.

"Not at all," he said, with artificial charm and sincerity. "In fact, carry on. Whatever you like. Don't let me interrupt you—pretend I'm not here." She sneered at him and got to her feet, ambling stiffly over to the bathroom. With the light switched on and peering into the mirror, a mild, "Yikes" escaped at the sight of herself. Yeah, Tarrlok had been right about that much. It wasn't pretty. Her arm was pretty bruised, of all the things… one of her knees had a truly ugly blotch that was incredibly tender and her tailbone wasn't feeling so good… but the worst of it was definitely her face. There was one awful one on her cheek—she prodded it gingerly and hissed; _ouch_—but the biggest was across her forehead, which must have been where Tarrlok had head-butted her. Whoa. She felt slightly impressed; she looked _rough_. With a glance back at Tarrlok, she noted with disappointment that he wasn't sporting any damage from last night. Aw, that made it look like he'd just beaten her up; he should at least have some bruises…

How _was_ she going to explain this? How was she going to explain this to _Amon_? He'd made it perfectly clear that fighting wasn't appreciated—but then why had he put them in a room together, _really_, he was a tactician and he should have known that the two of them hated each other with a fiery passion. More importantly, _how was she going to explain this_? She gave Tarrlok a resentful look. This was all his fault. He should be the one to come up with a story—she was the one who'd got the better of him, it wasn't _fair_ that she came out of it looking like she'd been beaten to a pulp!

"I hope you're happy now," she said glumly, irritably. "What am I going to do about this?"

"You were the one who couldn't leave well alone!" he snapped, getting out of the chair and going to sit down on his bed now that she'd vacated the area of floor next to it.

"You were the one screaming your head off! How was I supposed to sleep through that?" Korra felt a twinge at how callous she sounded, but he was just so _annoying_, he was so _Tarrlok_; if it had been anyone else—maybe with the exception of Amon—she would have been sorry for someone having a nightmare, but he was being such a pain about it, and he was going to get them into trouble.

The creak of bedsprings told her that Tarrlok was turning over restlessly. "The all compassionate Avatar," he grumbled.

"Nobody ever said I had to be nice." She prodded the cheek bruise again. Oh, this was _awful_. There was no way she could explain that away as… falling… or some other transparent but nearly plausible reason, she'd quite clearly been punched in the face.

"Lucky for you, then."

"Whatever. This is still all your fault."

"It is _not_—," he began heatedly, and then abruptly went silent. "Oh, this is ridiculous, I'm not arguing with some immature _child_." Korra snorted so hard that she was fairly sure she displaced something, and turned around indignantly to face him through the bathroom door, leaning around it to glare.

"You didn't seem to think that I was so childish when you were… ogling!" she said huffily, hanging onto the door and swinging back and forth slightly. "You were definitely ogling!" He gave a long suffering sigh and threw himself onto his other side, away from her. "Oh, fine, sigh all you want, but I saw you. If you keep doing it I'll hit _you_ in the face, and make you explain _that_ to Amon!" He didn't reply, and she was left to throw filthy looks at him every so often in the hope that he could feel them burning through his back.

Korra splashed some water onto her face to fully wake herself up, still clinging onto the optimistic approach that something magical would happen and the bruises would disappear, or Amon wouldn't come see them for a week or something… All she could come up with was _I fell_, and she couldn't have fallen on her foreheadand her knee and her _forearm_ all at the same time, that was about as ridiculous and implausible as excuses came.

The main door opened, and with a startled shriek Korra leapt into the shower in the hope that if it was Amon he wouldn't come into the bathroom. Then her mind, moving at a significantly slower rate than her reflexes, suggested that it would be incredibly strange to be found hiding fully clothed in a shower that wasn't running, and with some regret she turned on the water. She stood underneath the freezing spray and tried not to yelp at how cold it was.

"Councilman Tarrlok," came the nasally tones of the servant, distorted by the water "and… Avatar… Korra?"

"In the shower," Tarrlok said lazily, nearly lost altogether in the rushing of the shower. Korra turned down the dial slightly to be able to hear better.

"Well, only your presence is required—Amon wishes to break his fast with you alone." Korra blinked, droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes, and listened even harder through the beginnings of shivers. This thing took _ages_ to warm up, she'd set it to the highest heat… "Are you fit to leave, or shall I give you some minutes to prepare?" She could probably get out now that it wasn't Amon… but, no, appearing drenched and fully clothed could only go down badly, oh, _what_ was she doing? Captivity was doing really strange things to her brain…

After a moment's thought, Tarrlok said, "Some minutes to prepare, I think. I'll only need a few." The door closed again, and Korra peered out of the shower to see if the servant was gone or if he was just waiting in there—and yelled as Tarrlok came through the door. Accordingly, he jumped at the noise, and looked irritably at her. "What?" he demanded, and she straightened up her full height impressively.

"What if I'd really been showering?" she demanded, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her soaking torso.

"Does it really matter?" Tarrlok rubbed at his forehead as if he had a headache, and made shooing motions at her. When she didn't move, he sighed and reached forward, bodily dragging her out of the shower and ignoring her shouted curses and attempts to poke him in the eyes. Much to her disappointment and irritation, he fobbed off her attempts to hit him as vengeance, and—worst—began to change without even moving from the doorframe.

"When you will learn to close doors!" she yelled at him, kicking the door shut and hoping it had hit him on the way. All she got back in return was a muffled curse; she spat back a particularly good one that Bolin had taught her. Abruptly, forcibly, she was reminded of the people that were looking for her, and deflated. Naga—had she ever spent this much time away from Naga before? And she missed the kids, and her _friends_, being around people who were nice and kind and fun company, rather than hitting her in the face and making her want to gouge their eyes out…

She fell face down onto the bed, grumbling stifled by the fabric, and brooded to the mundane sounds of the shower.

* * *

Korra rolled off the bed and hit the ground with a thud and a grunt as Tarrlok came back into the room. She pulled herself up to kneeling, sprawled a little and yawning widely. As weird as it seemed, she hadn't enjoyed being by herself at all. Having Tarrlok around to bicker at and bounce off was almost preferable to the strange loneliness and emptiness that rolled through her when she was alone. Korra was never alone; she always had Naga, always had her friends and family around her. Anyone, however aggravating, was preferable to solitude.

"You were ages," she said, in between another yawn, and looked up. She cut off a curse midway through at the sight of Amon following through the door after Tarrlok, and was caught between trying to hide and realising that that would look awfully suspicious. "Ohhh," she said, almost shrinking, "um—" Then she looked at Tarrlok properly, for the first time, and noted how… unlike himself he seemed. That expression—it was almost shell shocked, it was nearly vacant; he seemed far away, somewhere else entirely, and he wasn't registering her being on the floor at all. He was, in fact, staring over her head. What had Amon said to him? Had Amon already found out about their tussle and… punished him for it? Why had Amon even come back with him?

At least one of her questions was answered when Amon turned his mask in her direction, and she saw his eyes narrow slightly through the slits. His hand tapped against his side, once, twice, and then went very still. "Well," he said, slowly, his voice rumbling through her, "you didn't mention _that_, Tarrlok." Korra dully registered that he was calling Tarrlok by his name, and frowned at that; what on earth had they talked about that had brought about this change? "Care to explain?" He was speaking almost familiarly… He stepped forward to get a better look, and Korra's skin prickled, and she moved to get to her feet. She didn't want to be down on the floor while this was taking place. Even standing up, she was still about a head shorter than everybody else present, and she didn't like it. "On second thought… there's no need for far-fetched excuses. I made it clear that I didn't want fighting; a couple of days in the Avatar looks like she's been in a bar fight. But," he added, focusing solely on Tarrlok once more, "I forgive you…"

"What's… going on?" Korra asked uncertainly, looking between the both of them. "I don't understand…"

"Neither do you need to," Amon said smoothly. Behind him, Tarrlok frowned ever so slightly, and shifted uncomfortably. Something very odd had happened to change their entire dynamic; Tarrlok was no longer as in control. He seemed a little lost, and a little confused, and Korra didn't like that… He'd lost control in the past, but that wasn't the same as this now, the man she saw almost shrinking in on himself defensively. _What_ had Amon told him? "You would do perfectly well to remain in ignorance for now."

"Whatever you've told him, I have a right to know!" she said, sure that she was pushing her luck but equally as sure that she needed to know what was going on. She was the only one out of the loop, and that was a dangerous position to be in, in the enemy headquarters…

Tarrlok stirred for the first time. "Leave it," he said shortly, and Amon turned to him, giving a nod. Korra didn't know what that nod meant—permission, approval, warning—but the slightly haunted cast to Tarrlok's expression wasn't exactly filling her with confidence and she subsided.

"However, I am growing curious about what occurred for _this_"—Amon waved his hand over her vaguely—"to have come about." Korra opened her mouth and shut it again, trying desperately to come up with something, because Tarrlok might as well have been a zombie at this point for all the awareness and sentience that he was showing, and resorted to the classic.

She blurted out, "I fell", and listened to the disbelieving silence. If ever a silence had taken on characteristics, this one was blatantly disbelieving.

"On your forehead," Amon said, utterly deadpan, without moving, and she knew she was blushing with the ludicrousness of what she'd just said.

"Yes," she said, a little too quickly. Amon turned to Tarrlok.

"Well?"

The other man stirred, rubbing at his nose thoughtfully, and looked Amon right in the eyes. "The Avatar was getting on my nerves," he said simply. "I dealt with it badly." They both ignored Korra's indignant cry.

"Like you could take me," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "Don't make me laugh."

"Whatever the true case… this will be the last case of fighting, do you understand me?" Tarrlok nodded dully, and Korra followed suit reluctantly. It wouldn't serve anything to try and fight this. In fact, she'd be quite happy if nobody punched her in the face for a while yet, her cheek and forehead hurt quite considerably; they wouldn't stop throbbing. "Good. I suppose I should have some breakfast delivered for the Avatar. I presume that puts everything in order—" Amon was abruptly cut off by an Equalist hurtling into the room.

"Sir!" they panted—it was impossible to determine who or what was underneath the suit while they were flailing around like that—nearly bent double. "There's—important news—there's a United Forces fleet in the bay—the Lieutenant said you were—to know—at once."

"What," Amon said, flatly, coldly, and Korra shivered once more. She decided to sit down. When he spoke like that, her legs became a little bit wobbly, and she was not going to fall over in front of him. "Why weren't we aware of this before they were _in the bay_?"

"Our scouts were taken out," the Equalist said, sounding fearful. "The airbending master, Tenzin—with a group of others, he tracked down the hideout the Councilman used to hide the Avatar—he determined that there was a fight and that both had been captured, and sent a message on a private line so that we couldn't intercept it." They straightened up, still wheezing.

"What was that message?" Amon asked, very quietly.

"A declaration of war."

* * *

Time flowed oddly after that—Korra listened carefully, committing each word to memory, sure that any minute Amon was going to disappear off to conduct business somewhere private, but he didn't seem to care at all that he was speaking about things that were presumably secret in front of two of his enemies. (In fact, he kept glancing over at her, and it was putting her on edge.) Or was Tarrlok even his enemy any more? Once or twice he nodded over to at the Councilman as if consulting him, and Korra was left baffled and largely ignored, sitting on her bed and being quiet in the hope that they'd pretty much forget that she was there. She seemed to be the only one left out of the loop, and that was almost incomprehensible to her. Tarrlok of the curfew, of the taskforce, standing there silently and listening as Amon conducted proceedings was something that made no sense to her at all. She couldn't wrap her head around it.

Korra oscillated between delight that her friends had found out so quickly—Naga, it must have been Naga!—the fact that a _fleet_ was already in the bay and another on its way, and fear about what Amon was going to do. The United Forces had declared war, with Tenzin's backing, over the abduction of the Avatar and the Councilman, two high profile names with which to launch an all out battle on the Equalists. The fleet had been nearby to start with, gloriously, and it was _here_, and the Equalists didn't stand a chance, she was sure.

Then the Equalist left, and Amon looked at her properly, full on, for the first time. She wished that she could see his face, see the expression that he was making; was it malevolent, thoughtful, calculating? Tarrlok sat heavily down in the chair still out, and put his face in his hands. "What are you going to do?" he asked, the sound muffled through his fingers, and raised his head back up with a toss of his hair. "How are you—I—maybe we should leave, go far away—"

"What are you saying?" Korra asked, astonished. "Tarrlok—what _happened_?" He looked at her, expression conflicted, and rapidly looked away again.

Amon rubbed at the back of his neck, the only one still standing. "That's an idea," he said thoughtfully. "With the United Forces fleet bearing down on us… I acted rashly when I seized the two of you, and these are the consequences… perhaps it's best to just cut my losses and leave now before war breaks out fully." Korra blinked. She was hallucinating. She had fallen unconscious and was dreaming. She'd knocked her head when Tarrlok had thrown her all the way back in City Hall, and this whole thing had been a feverish delusion.

"No, I can't leave Republic City," Tarrlok said, looking a bit more himself. He was sitting up a bit straighter and had gained some strength. Korra knew things must be dire if that was a hopeful sign. Although, she thought, if they were debating leaving… she hadn't been mentioned at all so far, they could just be referring to themselves! Maybe they were leaving her out of this entirely. "I made a _life_ for myself here."

Amon shrugged, leaning against the wall. "As did I. Lives change in an instant. You know that, Tarrlok."

Frustrated, Tarrlok shifted in his chair, and inclined forward. "Noatak—" he began, and then abruptly stopped, shutting his mouth with an audible click as his teeth clamped down. Amon turned to him, whipping fast and snake-like, and exhaled very, very slowly in what sounded like an attempt at patience. Korra looked between the two men, blinking quickly as she tried to connect the dots.

"Noatak's a Water Tribe name," she said, and nobody told her to be quiet, so she steamrollered on before they could make her shut up. "You're—you're Water Tribe? And he's Water Tribe… but your skin? Your skin is so light—do you know each other? You know each other somehow—you're"—she looked at Amon, mind racing wildly, he hated bending and… if Tarrlok was Yakone's son and knew bloodbending and Amon hated bending and was trying to eradicate it surely there was a connection there somewhere, that couldn't be a coincidence—"a… a friend—a cousin—an illegitimate son of Yakone's!"

To her bewilderment and irritation, Amon chuckled. "Wrong on all accounts of identity except my nationality, Avatar," he said softly, and she felt her spirits fall. She'd been so sure that she was right; maybe she was entirely wrong and there was no connection between the two of them at all. Perhaps Amon just had a particularly incriminating piece of information about Tarrlok that he'd used to intimidate the other man… perhaps they'd just met in the past and there were secrets… There was no way that they could be related, really, what were the odds…? "But close," he added, with a quieter chuckle, "close." Korra looked between the two of them again, trying to figure it out. "However, this presents us with a problem." She frowned. That didn't sound good.

Tarrlok was still half out of his chair, eyes moving about the room like a wary animal. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice low and dark. "Let's just get away from here now, before everything goes wrong; they won't have time to find us, and we'll be far away before anyone figures anything out." Amon shook his head.

"We can't leave the Avatar here with an inkling of the truth," he said, and Korra's stomach seemed to swoop sickly, feeling as if it were moving separately to her body entirely.

"You can," she interjected very quickly. "I don't really know who you are—I just guessed, but I have no real idea, and even if I did I wouldn't tell anyone anyway, your secret that I don't know is safe with me."

"_Noatak_," Tarrlok said, almost pleadingly. "It should be just the two of us—they'd track us down if we brought the Avatar with us, we'd never be at peace, always on the run…" Korra nodded vigorously as Tarrlok spoke, leaning so far forward with tension that she nearly fell off the bed.

With a sigh, Amon removed his mask, and Korra was surprised to see the scar below it—she'd assumed that his backstory was a lie—but then he rubbed at it, and it slowly came away. Underneath was a man who looked startlingly like Tarrlok, perhaps a little older, a little different, but undeniably like Tarrlok… "Now that she's seen my face, brother," he said, "is leaving her here still your preference?"

Tarrlok ignored Korra's mumbled, illuminated, "Brother?" and stood up, impassioned. "What are you doing, Noatak?" he asked, searching the face of the man opposite him.

"Truthfully," the man underneath the mask drawled, "leaving her here could never be an option. It's that or kill her—and I feel that would be a terrible waste of such potential. Think of it, Tarrlok. The two of us, we'd need never fear others—two master bloodbenders"—Korra once more went ignored, with her yelp of surprise –"and, in time, perhaps more…" He looked towards her in a way that made her skin crawl, and she really hoped that he wasn't implying what she thought that he was implying. "I'm quite adept at disguising myself; we could start over again peacefully… if you're so against the idea of the Avatar coming with us, then do it. Kill her."

Korra scrambled backwards, considerably alarmed, and fumbled for a sense of her bending. Dammit, it was still cut off from her! She looked at Tarrlok, eyes wide. "Going with you doesn't sound so bad," she said brightly. Captive was better than dead—she could try and escape, nobody could keep the Avatar controlled for too long; she would get back home unless Tarrlok killed her here. To her dismay and abject fear, he stepped across the room. "You don't want to do this," she babbled. "I'll come with you, I won't get in the way, I promise—" His eyes hardened, and she held up her hands as if to ward him off.

Tarrlok sounded very tired as he spoke.

"You really think that I'd kill you," he said dully. "Just like that." He turned to Amon—Noatak, she guessed, ugh, it was so _weird_ to think of him as Water Tribe—and nodded shortly. "I won't kill her. Have your _potential_, then." Amon—Noatak—smiled.

"Well then," he said, "that's settled." He hit her chi points with more force than was technically necessary and as she fell to the floor, momentarily going weak, she made sure to glare at him. She was not going to go along passively with this. She was going to make their escape hell.

When she lay there for a good minute or so pathetically, he sighed and pulled her up from the floor none too gently. "I know you can walk," he murmured into her ear, uncomfortably close. "I won't be carrying you; you can be bloodbended the whole way, or you can walk yourself. Which would you rather?" Tarrlok watched, looking tiredly uninterested; he then turned his head to the side as not to see.

"I can walk," she mumbled, gritting her teeth.

"Good," he said evenly, giving her an appraising look. "Good." It was so _strange_ to see his face. That voice coming from that face, not the mask of her nightmares—it was almost worse, much more odd, so much stranger—and she didn't like it at all. "We need to be dressed somewhat differently," he said, to Tarrlok. "I certainly can't get away like this."

Tarrlok stirred from his dull thoughtfulness, and nodded shortly. He looked as if some puppet master had cut his strings, leaving him slumped and lost, but Amon's words reinvigorated him. "Of course, Noatak," he replied, even making an attempt at a smile. "Do you have any?"

"We have a… costume department of sorts here, for when people need to go undercover. We'll take clothing from there. Who should we be?" He moved towards the door as he spoke, motioning for Korra to go ahead. With a resentful glance at Tarrlok, she did so, shuffling unhappily and dragging her feet. Amon gave her a none too gentle prod in the back. "Move," he said, dropping his voice softly; did he not want Tarrlok to hear or something? Everyone was well aware that he was a creep; he didn't need to hide it. Even more grumpily, Korra marched ahead by his side. Every time that she moved too far ahead he'd just tug on her shirt and pull her back like a disobedient pet. Tarrlok walked behind the two of them, utterly silent.

Much to Korra's disappointment, they didn't run into anyone on the way. She had been hoping for someone to see them, to see Amon without his mask as the unscarred Noatak, and raise all hell. Sullenly, she thought that Amon probably wouldn't have gone unmasked if he'd known that anyone would come upon them anyway, but she'd still got her hopes up. If she was going to escape properly, she probably needed to do it before they took her away from Republic City, before they took her somewhere that she didn't know and didn't have any allies. She waited, constantly tense, for a good moment to escape.

Amon locked the door behind them with a heavy click as they stepped into a room full of clothing; rows upon rows stretching away from her, organised into groups from each of the four nations, and some others besides that she didn't recognise at all. There were signs over every rack in the large hall. Korra read some of them, interested despite herself, and saw "Fire Nation, east coast, 150 ASC", "Air Acolyte, current", "Fusion; Earth Kingdom and Northern Water Tribe Peasant 165 ASC". Okay, she was kind of impressed by this. And slightly awed. How long must it have taken to collect all of this?

"We don't want to take too much," Amon mused, moving about somewhere to her left, "because we'll need to move quickly, but we should take enough to be several different people if the need arises…" Korra's heart sank further in her chest at that. How was anyone going to track her if her appearance and identity was constantly changing? Of course he wouldn't have been uncanny enough to have taken Korra of the Southern Water Tribe: Avatar blatantly around, but… this… She took a step forward, reaching out her fingers to touch the rack, and was considerably surprised when Amon rapped her hand as if she were a small child. "I don't think so," he said. "Stand there, and don't move."

Breathing far too fast, Korra cradled her fingers to her chest and retreated resentfully for now. He was rifling through "Northern Water Tribe Petty Nobility: 160 ASC" and abruptly seized one outfit, throwing it altogether at her. She managed to catch it with some effort and looked down at it foolishly.

"Put it on," he called to her, projecting curiously rather than raising his voice. He selected something else which he tossed much more carefully to Tarrlok; the other man caught it elegantly. Of all the things, that made Korra look down to the floor, ears burning. It was two against one… however out of it Tarrlok was, Amon—Noatak—was clearly determined to establish links with his brother—ugh, it was so weird to think of them that way—which closed her out of the loop.

She snuffled, clearing her nose and blinking rapidly, and felt a creeping stab of embarrassment. "Where do I change?" she asked, nearly hopefully, pretty much knowing what the answer would be.

The look he gave her was darkly amused, patronising and almost pitying all at once. _Take a wild guess_ went unspoken. "Here," he said shortly. Korra decided to make one last try of it, try and persuade them that she'd be good; the door was locked, she couldn't escape from here even if she wanted to, she just didn't want to change in front of them, couldn't, wouldn't…

"But," she began, hearing a whine sidle into her voice, "if you'd just turn your back—"

"No," he said, even more tersely. "Here. You can give up the idea of escape. Change _here_, where I can see you."

Korra clutched the fabric to her chest, and as a last resort, looked to Tarrlok—he seemed to be more moderate and less steady about this than Amon—only to see him already undressing casually, methodically. He wasn't meeting her eyes, even when she tried to catch his gaze. She looked around for other options… This probably wasn't going to work, but it was worth a try… Quietly, she slid into one of the aisles created by the racks of clothing, and made to change there very quickly. She yanked her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly to the floor, and held up the outfit, only to realise with a stab of panic that she had no idea how to put it on. She turned it over in her hands, trying to find the body of it, sleeves—a hole to shove herself through at worst, there must be _some way_ into it—

A hand latched onto her shoulder, and pulled her back with strength that she knew that she could never match, twisting her around to look into a face that was frighteningly patient. "I said 'where I can see you'," Amon said, quite mildly, and she shivered all over, swallowing dryly.

"I—," Korra began, croaking, and he cut her off by pulling her bodily back into the clear area before most of the racks.

"If I can't trust you to follow orders, there will be retribution," he said, coolly. "I'd rather not stoop to dressing you like a child"—a quick flick of a glance downwards made her acutely uncomfortable at being described as a child—"so do I have to?" Resentfully, angrily, she tried to twist out of his hands. It was futile. He simply tightened his grip. "Very well," he sighed, pulling the clothing out of her fingers.

"No!" she said hoarsely, "no, I can do it myself"—scrabbling at his shoulders, already clad in different clothing that made him look so much more Water Tribe, even though that skin was inexplicably light, what had he done to it?—

He fobbed her off as inexorably as the tides and reached for her trousers—she kicked him instinctively, and he cuffed her around the head. "This didn't have to be difficult," he told her, and she tried to hit him. "Oh, _behave_," he said, beginning to become irritated. "We need to be getting away _quickly_¸ and you are becoming dead weight." Mutinously, she subsided.

"Noatak," Tarrlok said, sounding tired. "Let her do it herself." Korra looked up in surprise, and met his eyes for a full second before he turned away to look at Amon instead. "It will be quicker." As if to emphasise this, Korra kicked Amon in the shin again. He cursed, and practically threw her away from him.

"Very well," he replied to his brother, then addressing Korra. "You have a minute. If you're not finished by then… I'm sure you understand." Korra wasn't sure whether that was a murder threat or a gross bodily harm threat. Either way, she didn't want to invoke it. _Modesty is a luxury_, she thought, and changed as quickly as she could. It was more humiliating by this point than embarrassing; fear made her clumsy, and once or twice she tripped over entirely and had to pull herself back up by the rack, hurting her hands. The outfit was much more complicated than the clothing in the Southern Water Tribe; beautiful, but complicated. She was sure that, in the end, she was given much more than a minute, but she didn't slow down.

When she was finished, she was wearing something much prettier than anything she had ever had before, and she felt acutely miserable in it. Amon tossed her a robe, a coat, to put on over the top, and she drew the fur lining at the neck and the sleeves close to her face and buried herself in them, feeling safe for a second.

The hand on her back was far too gentle, which wasn't right at all, and Amon was looking down at her almost beneficially. "Good," he said, and she released some of the tension that she was carrying uncomfortably with her. Nobody was going to kill her at this moment in time. For now, it was probably a good idea to swallow her pride. What was she implicitly afraid of? Nobody had touched her so far; it had only been looks, and she could deal with looks. It wasn't right, it wasn't easy, but she could deal with looks if she had to. It wasn't worth getting herself killed over.

Amon gave her a casual scan, and frowned. "Do something with your hair," he said to Tarrlok. "Not least because—like father?" Tarrlok gave his brother a dark, disappointed look, and shrugged, and let his hair down around his shoulders. Korra watched, oddly hypnotised. He moved to do a warrior's wolf tail, and then hesitated—_good_, she thought, _good, you don't deserve one_—and left two hanks down either side of his face still to put into tails. Amon looked disapproving at this remnant of his old hairstyle, but didn't say anything.

"You, as well," he added. Korra blinked, distracted, and fumbled for the bag he threw to her. It was full of hair things… Taking a deep breath, she decided to go for simplicity, and pulled most of her into a bun with a intricate tie from the bag. Hoping that neither of them would recognise the iconic hair loopies, she thought of Katara as she braided each loopy, either side of her face, and drew on memories of Katara to give her strength.

* * *

To her surprise, they travelled by Satomobile, one with a closed roof and tinted windows. They stopped only to procure an amount of money that was disappointingly large—they would be well provided for and have no stumbling problems that she could exploit, damn—and then she was put in the back and indignantly tied to the door. "If you try to escape, it will go badly for you," she was warned, and some hopes of escaping before they left Republic City deflated.

Slightly more cheeringly, they arrived at a train station. Korra brightened. A public place! Perfect. She could wreak hell here. They parked quite far away, practically on a cliff edge, and she was hurried metres clear by Tarrlok. Watching, confused, she understood as Amon bent some water out of the river below and the Satomobile went hurtling over the edge to make a strangely beautiful descent—incongruous, that big, heavy thing sailing through the air as if it were weightless—and breaking apart on the rocks below. Unbidden, the image of herself going over the edge came to her, and she swallowed, trying to make that lump go down.

When she looked up at Tarrlok, unable to help herself, she saw that his expression was nearly as conflicted as hers. Then he noticed her, and schooled it carefully to that politician's face, cool and unreadable. She scowled and turned away again, mind racing and trying to formulate plans. She needed to get away from them somehow, obviously—before, she might have attempted going to the toilet, but now she wasn't sure that they'd let her get away with that. They were overly careful, completely ignoring privacy… it was worth a try, perhaps, but she wasn't going to pin any hopes on that. She could get lost in the crowd, scream for help…

Something occurred to her, and she snorted, unable to stop it escaping, and then once more. Tarrlok, staring straight ahead, said, "What?" tersely. She shrugged. "No, Avatar Korra—I said _what_?"

"Well," she said. "I was just wondering how you're going to explain this."

"Explain what?" he snapped, temper clearly wearing thin. She shrugged again.

"Two old men travelling with a teenage girl. That's all."

"I am not _old_," he said, outraged, showing the first signs of his former personality in a while. "I'm not even forty, what do you mean _old_?" It was almost precious how concerned he was with her apparent insult to his person when he'd kidnapped her and was now attempting to take her somewhere that nobody would ever see her again. Almost. "Noatak," he called to Amon, who had been making sure that there were no signs of remaining wreckage below—Korra was horrified and slightly impressed at how far his range was, bending the water all the way down there—and was now making his way back to where they stood. "How _are_ we going to explain this?"

Amon ignored Korra's snide, "I could be your granddaughter", which provoked Tarrlok into a hiss of annoyance, and rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "You and I will be brothers; nobody knows that Councilman Tarrlok has an older brother. I don't think we could label our relation with the Avatar as family… the dynamic is too strange to call it family. We can't have a girl her age travelling alone with two unrelated men, it's true."

"Maybe you should just take me home, then," Korra suggested nastily, albeit under her breath.

"She's going to have to be somebody's wife," Amon said finally, and her head snapped up.

"What?" She hadn't thought before she'd said that, and for a moment she was afraid that he was going to be angry, but he seemed more exasperated.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," he said. "It's to avoid unwelcome attention wherever we go. We won't be in public long; you won't have to _suffer_ the indignity of a little acting for a long period of time. People will still gossip… it's in their natures… but it won't be as outright scandalous as no explanation at all." _Scandalous, he said_, she thought, stifling an unreasonable desire to burst out laughing. _He didn't want it to look _scandalous _when that there was Councilman Tarrlok, revealed to be a bloodbender and Yakone's son and also to be the brother of also a bloodbender who was also Yakone's son the hypocritical leader of the dangerous terrorist group the Equalists and here I am the Avatar being taken for creepy 'potential', oh my _god—

It was so unfunny that she could have laughed until she cried.

* * *

Tarrlok didn't want any responsibility for her—he didn't even seem to want to touch her, which she was finding strange and off-putting, because every time she even went near him, stumbled, tripped, wandered, he would practically leap off into the other direction—so it was decided that she'd be Amon's wife. Oh, good. She wasn't sure that either would have been better, but Amon's presence made her a lot more actively nervous and his hand on her shoulder had nearly hyperventilating unless she was making a concerted effort to appear calm.

She was putting a lot of effort into appearing calm. Amon's arm was around her shoulder, and his hand rested near her neck. The heat radiating off it, and him, was keeping her constantly on edge. The fact that he'd already given her a threat—an almost amicable threat, of all the things—was not helping. Every so often, he would play with the hair curling behind her ear as a reminder. "If you choose to cause trouble," he'd said, sounding largely bored, "there's a pressure point here that causes first pain, and then unconsciousness. Nobody will see. Nobody will know. You will simply have fainted. Unless you have a heart condition I am unaware of, in which case it might induce death." After a moment for her to digest that, he'd continued, "Don't cause trouble."

And she'd nodded resentfully and tried to breathe through the suffocating effect that hand was having.

Korra had never seen the train station before. She'd heard about them—the mechanisation of the trains laying off earthbenders left right and centre was a topical issue in some circles—but nothing had prepared her for the… immenseness of a train. They belched steam, and were unbearably loud, and ridiculously crowded, and that was all that she could see from a distance, behind the barrier of the ticket machine. She tried to deal with the frantic hammering of her heart. Before coming to Republic City, she hadn't really dealt with technology… it didn't travel well to the South Pole and so they largely got on without it… Satomobiles were one thing, but the train was enormous, and she was sure that she'd heard about accidents, crashes, entire carriages piling into one another and squashing the people inside like a tin can crumpling…

"Come on, let's move," Amon said. He sounded so affable that she looked up at him in open surprise, and then remembered that they were supposed to be a couple. His hand digging into her neck for just a second brought her right back to reality. Oh. Right. He bought three tickets from the uncaring boy at the desk—who didn't look a lot older than she was, and completely bored—and they moved through onto the platform.

"Do you know where we're going?" Tarrlok asked, far too casually. Korra hadn't even thought of that; she'd been caught in denial, fear. She listened, trying not to look too attentive. Thoughtfully, Amon looked at the board of trains.

"We have a single, day-travel ticket," he replied, rubbing at his chin with his free hand. His other was absent-mindedly tapping at Korra's shoulder, and it was making her skin crawl. "We can go anywhere between here and Ba Sing Se… and other directions besides."

"Ba Sing Se?" Tarrlok suggested, crossing his arms and standing there like a lump.

Amon shook his head. "Too big, too busy, too many people there who might have heard of—well, heard of you two. I was a mask. Ba Sing Se is out of the question." Rebuffed, Korra thought she saw Tarrlok almost… deflate. He didn't seem very on board with this plan, and she cheered up. If she couldn't get away before they left Republic City, then she might be able to whittle away at him. "Perhaps… something on the way. It would be safest to travel for a generous period of time, just to be safe…" His finger traced over the map, casually plotting Korra's entire future. "It's dangerous to take so many days to travel, but if we can get there… here." He tapped the map, and illogically Korra looked around, hoping that someone had _seen_ that, that somebody now knew where she was going… Nobody was even looking in their direction, and she turned back to the map feeling heavy, the fact that they had pretty much successfully kidnapped her sinking in.

The place that he had chosen was on the south-west of the Earth Kingdom. It was the other side of the world entirely. All that could be said for it was that it was closer to the Water Tribe, but there was no regular travel between the Water Tribe and the rest of the world, she'd have to escape and fend for herself there… Dully, she became aware that Amon was talking again. _It might be important_, she thought, and forced herself to listen.

"I need to go to the toilet," Amon was saying to Tarrlok in low tones, and she wrinkled up her nose. That was an image that she didn't need. "If I leave her with you, are you able to keep her under control?" Tarrlok regarded his brother somewhat coolly.

"Are you implying that I'm unable?"

Amon gave him a rough pat on the shoulder. "I know you're finding this difficult," he said, nearly with affection. "That's why I asked. That's all."

"I'm capable," Tarrlok said, and Korra knew that Amon had registered the coolness of his tone as well, by that expression he made for just a moment in between smiling—ugh, he was _smiling_, this was too weird—and leaving. Well, here was a chance. Whatever he'd said, Tarrlok was clearly out of it and had been for a while. With Amon gone, he lapsed into all out brooding. Now that she was here and had this opportunity, what was she going to _do_ with it?

Korra felt a stab of panic for a moment, and suppressed it. Right. She needed to get away, maybe into a crowd, make a scene, get people's attention. She was almost afraid to look at Tarrlok, as if he could see her thoughts, would read it on her face, and in one quick, smooth motion, kicked him ferociously in the back of the knees.

He went down _hard_, cursing, not having seen it coming and reached out grasping for her; she evaded his hand with ease and darted off, heart hammering in her chest. This was time to be clever, but all she could feel was fear and an animal desire to flee; she'd seen the fury on his face and knew that he wouldn't be so lax and inclining in her favour if she was headed for the exit, openly shoving people aside. Jumping the barrier was harder in the clumsiness of dread, and she hit her shin, crying out and frightening travellers, who scattered—yes, yes, she was making a scene, if they caught her, it would get out that a Water Tribe girl had—

Someone was gaining behind her, and she knew those steps, knew them knew them knew them, oh _no_—

Her feet went out from underneath her and she knew that that was bloodbending—he was bloodbending her in _public_, but too subtly that anyone would notice, _shit—_and then he was on her and she was shrieking, terrified, and he was incongruously holding her, lifting her up tenderly; that face loomed above her, pale like some demonic spirit and the eyes boring into her with cold fury as he spoke gently, falsely.

"Are you all right?" Amon said kindly, as his fingers brushed back some hair from her forehead gently, and pressed down on the pressure point with vicious efficiency.


	3. THREE

Sorry that this took so long! Life, it has been hectic. Here is your chapter.

* * *

**THREE**

* * *

Unpleasantly, unfortunately, she came round what must have been only minutes later feeling like somebody had put her through a blender. Amon was carrying her, which accounted for the swaying feeling; the sky swung above her and swooped in, and she blinked irritably. That couldn't be right. That was silly. The last she remembered was him descending on her, and then there was a gap, an unsettling, strange gap in which there was nothing.

Her head was swimming. She felt heavy—but lightheaded all at once. As much as she hated that he was carrying her, she wasn't entirely sure that she could have walked by herself. Besides, as was becoming more apparent as she bobbed up and down with his gait, she had the world's most awful headache.

Well. _Somebody_ wouldn't be making another escape attempt for a while.

She became aware of Tarrlok walking alongside them, staring dead straight ahead and trying to control what was clearly an angry expression. Warily, expecting thunder, she glanced up at Amon and found him frighteningly clear and calm. He was reassuring people who were staring that his wife—it sent shivers over her to hear that—was _fine_, she'd had an awful shock and _fainted_, of all the things, _most_ irregular. Korra struggled feebly as they got onto a train; she subsided as soon as it became apparent that the pain in that was disproportionate to where it got her.

"We have a cabin," Amon said to Tarrlok, who nodded shortly. Amon chuckled softly. "Offered to us after you had such a shock," he added, looking down at her. Korra groaned, and tried to cover her eyes, tried not to see him. Maybe having a cabin meant that she could lie down for a while and nurse her poor, aching head…

Instead, much to her dismay, she found herself tied securely to one of two tiny beds, just about managing to remain sitting up on the floor. "Couldn't I lie down?" she said, making an attempt at looking repentant. Tarrlok's face was stormy. He simply glared at her, with one little glance at his brother—ah, okay, she'd made him look bad, she had the measure of this—and crossed his arms.

"What do you think?" he snapped, pulling his jacket over his head and throwing himself moodily down on that bed. It moved with an audible squeak, and as the bed juddered the leg hit Korra in the back. She grunted and swore as viciously as she could. It had made her already nauseous stomach lurch. As retribution, his jacket came down on her head. "Wash your mouth out with soap, young lady," he said, oddly self-righteous.

"Hey!" she said, twisting her tied hands ineffectually. The world had shrunk to blue fabric, smelling of his strange perfume, and sweat, and something less easy to pin down—skin, humanity, much more intangible—and it was far too close to her nose. She did not want Tarrlok right up her nose. "Take this off me!" She tried shaking her head to remove it, but all that succeeded in doing was making her so powerfully queasy that she lolled sideways for a moment, desperately trying to keep down whatever she had last put into her stomach.

Happily, the jacket did lift off her head; less happily, the person who had done it was Amon. He put it carefully onto Tarrlok's bed, across Tarrlok's legs, and crouched down in front of Korra. Her first instinct was to move backwards and away, but the bed was preventing that, and all she managed was another painful dig to her back. The world was spinning slightly worryingly anyway, and she wasn't sure she wanted to jeopardise it any further…

His fingers reached for her and her breath caught in her throat, but all that happened was him taking her chin in his hands, just like that night on the memorial island, and she tried not to breathe too quickly. "I know you're a spirited girl," he said, and she must have made a face, because his grip tightened a little, "but there's a simple system at work here; good behaviour is rewarded. Bad behaviour is punished. I assume your experience with that pressure point has been unpleasant?" He seemed to be expecting an answer, so she nodded. That was true. She was _not_ enjoying this. "I'd rather not use it again, but I'm not foolish enough to believe that I can trust you. Until you give evidence that you _can_ be trusted, this"—he gestured with his other hand at her general situation—"will be the standard of fare. I hope that's clear." He waited. "Is that clear?" She nodded again; he didn't seem satisfied with that. "I said, is that clear?"

"Yes," she said, slightly impatiently, and he withdrew with one last, strangely intimate stroke down the side of neck where she knew the pressure point was. It was gently threatening, and she shivered.

"Very well," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. "I look forward to your transition." Tarrlok shifted in his bed, more roughly than she considered truly necessary, sending the bed shaking right into her back again. Korra just managed to bite back the angry remark tripping off her tongue, and settled for defiant glaring at the floor.

Her position very quickly became uncomfortable. Minutes passed like hours while the two of them napped, took snacks from the tray provided, and chatted about meaningless things like _laws_ and new lives and hobbies. It was banally boring. After what she thought might have actually been a few hours, the pain was becoming unbearable. She still hadn't recovered from the trauma of the pressure point, and now her muscles were seizing up unpleasantly so that her lower body seemed to be spasming from the effort of sitting up. It was playing havoc with her temper, and she kept having to swallow heavy rants, shouting at them in her head instead.

When Tarrlok pointedly turned over once more, she snapped. "Can I _please_ be untied?" she said, and the pleading tone in her voice was awful but undeniable. Maybe she _should_ grovel, maybe they'd like that and let her up… "I can barely move, and I won't be any trouble, I just—the pressure point—it—_ow_, okay."

Amon leaned down to her, his face cool and composed. She managed not to give into the automatic reaction telling her to lean back—there was nowhere to go, anyway—and hoped that he wasn't just playing games with her. "Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching out as if to the rope, and she perked up; was he going to untie them? She nodded eagerly, earnestly. He looked thoughtful. "Very painful?" he inquired, and she could feel his fingers running over the knots, brushing past her hands once or twice. She bobbed her head so enthusiastically that the nausea returned in full force.

He looked her right in the face, the power of his gaze a physical thing bearing down on her. "Good," he said softly, and turned his back on her.

* * *

Amon's mood—or, rather, Noatak, because he seemed less and less like the emotionless leader of the Equalists—improved the further they got from Republic City, to the point where she heard him honestly, genuinely laugh at something that Tarrlok told him. Korra was almost hypnotised by that face, the expressions that played over it like ripples in water, always changing. She was discovering that Noatak was strangely mercurial. At one point, when Tarrlok brought up something from their past his amusement at once shut down and he went silent and sullen; his brother had to coax him back to a good mood. It didn't take much to restore it. That changeability was the best—and only—form of entertainment she had, tied uncomfortably to a bed, and she'd resolved to study her enemies.

As such, when she heard him laugh and deduced that he was in the best mood possible—she'd never really heard him laugh earnestly at something before, and to be honest she could get along without it happening again in the future—and took that moment to strike. She looked down at the floor, trying to make herself as pathetic as possible, and said in a very small voice. "Could I please have something to eat?" If this didn't work, she was going to be pretty annoyed, because swallowing her pride like this was no mean feat; she was reassuring herself with the fact that it would feel pretty good to get one over on the two of them and that would assuage the injury to her pride.

Noatak looked down at her, and was thoughtful. She took this a positive. He hadn't outright, automatically said no to her. "What do you think?" he asked Tarrlok laughingly, a small smile flitting across his face. "Should we feed the Avatar? How long has it been since her last meal?"

"Ages," Korra said plaintively, not having to fake anything for that. She willed her stomach to rumble on time, but there was no luck there; it remained quiet, despite the fact that it hadn't shut up for the past few hours. "I can't remember my last meal."

"Do you think we should take pity, brother?" Noatak inquired, sifting through the rubbish left of their snacking on the small table.

"No," Tarrlok said shortly, and Korra had to restrain herself from openly glaring at him; she settled for a dull glower. He was annoyed about her escape. She hoped his legs really, really hurt. That would be small compensation. And she'd thought that he was the weak rung on the ladder to escape… he had switched roles with Amon, now playing the uncaring, strict one, while Noatak was bordering on genial. Creepily genial, but bordering on genial all the same. "The Avatar needs more time to reflect on her actions."

"And an empty stomach would aid those reflections?"

"Quite," Tarrlok said, with more satisfaction than Korra thought was really necessary. "I say no to food."

Noatak laughed; not the sound of genuine amusement, but something shorter and sharper. "It wouldn't do for the Avatar to waste away altogether, however… which reminds me, you haven't chosen new names yet. You can't go about the country as Tarrlok and Avatar Korra." Was he letting her choose her own name? She could go for Katara—no, that was too obvious, they'd never let her have that—Kya?—no, Katara's daughter was too close as well… what had her grandmother been called…? She wanted some name that connected her to her old life, not some impersonal label slapped on her.

"Kanna," she burst out. He looked at her thoughtfully.

"Who's Kanna?"

Korra fidgeted, twisting her hands. The pins and needles were growing increasingly immense as the day went on. Was there any point to lying about the name? "Katara's grandmother," she said. "She lived her whole life in the Southern Water Tribe during the Hundred Years War… no-one will know who she is."

To her surprise, Noatak smiled thinly at her. "Very good," he said, and turned away. Korra was beginning to feel seriously confused about all the changes in his moods. He seemed… cheerful, a complete stretch from the man who'd threatened her and jabbed her in the back to make her go faster and knocked her out altogether. "What about you, brother?"

Tarrlok shrugged—_still sulking_, she thought, _get _over_ it_—and said, "Arnook. I can say that I was named after him." Noatak nodded, satisfied, and twitched back the curtain to peer outside. Korra's heart sank at how different the terrain was. The architectural was _completely_ different, more traditional, and the tall trees that she could see stretching away either side of the sprawling metropolis were far bigger and wider and more impressive than any that she had seen before. Korra felt small in this landscape, so different to the urban mundane of Republic City.

He left the curtains open, and fixed his gaze on Korra. She swallowed an irritable "_What_?" and made herself hold his eyes, not look away. Without looking away from her, his hand closed around something on the table—she made herself keep staring—and came to crouch in front of her again. Korra's skin crawled with discomfort at this closeness. He opened his hand. In the centre of his palm was, incongruously enough, a roll. Her mouth began to water, and she looked up at him, down at the roll, and back up at him. Was this some sort of horrible torture? Oh, she was so _hungry_. It was cold and she didn't like cold food at all but it smelled so _good_.

He said, "Open your mouth," and her first thought was _oh, no way._ Her second thought was, accompanied by a stomach rumble that make him chuckle quietly, _suck it up. You're starving_. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth, feeling acutely ridiculous, and really hoping that Tarrlok wasn't watching or something. He lifted the roll—this was so _undignified_, hell—and brought it to her mouth, guiding it gently inside. "Bite," he said softly, and she did so. Not very well, because some of the contents of the roll fell out, and she ended up with a very full mouth in her eagerness, and there was now food down her front. Chewing, too happy about the food to truly care, she tried to assess the damage done to her clothing. Oops.

His fingers brushed across her front, and she froze up, but all he was doing was brushing off the bits of food to the floor. "Try not to make such a mess this time," he said to her, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Swallow." She ate the roll bit by bit with his incessant coaching; she was acutely aware that she was only eating because he was letting her, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out why he was being so… was _nice_ the right word? He wasn't being _Amon_. That persona seemed to have melted away, and in a way that more frightening; she _knew_ Amon, even if she was terrified of him. This person, so mercurial and irregular, was an absolute stranger to her and an unknown quantity.

When she had finished the roll, he picked up another, and they repeated the process. He was moving very slowly, she noticed, and she was almost straining against the ropes—ow, ow, no, bad idea, she shouldn't do that again—to get forward. She wondered suspiciously if that was his plan. There must be some ulterior motive to this.

There was a snort from the bed above. Korra decided to ignore it with as much dignity as she could summon while being fed whilst tied to a bed in a tiny train cabin. Tarrlok leaned down from above, swooping into her line of eyesight for a second, and then he swung right back. Maybe he'd just felt the need to remind her that he existed. Well, good for him. Bloodbending politician scum.

Noatak rocked back on his haunches, and gave her a smile that was slightly too wide in its intensity. "Is that better?" he asked, voice low and smooth.

"Yes," she mumbled, hoping that he'd think that this was all good behaviour. It smarted, but it was just _one word_, it was only one word, she wasn't letting him win with one word.

He smiled even wider, until his expression began to look slightly wild, and stood up in one languid expanse. That was the style of movement that she'd seen when he'd attacked Lightning Bolt Zolt, when he'd sneaked up on her in the memorial, and for a second she felt herself begin to sweat. He wasn't this benign, harmless persona that he was trying to put on, she reminded herself. He was well capable of killing her in seconds—as her aching head, though slightly less insistent now that she'd eaten, could testify to—if his whims changed.

His hand descended towards her, and she flinched—she'd made this happen, just thinking about how he'd come out of the darkness, surrounded by Equalists, their creepy headgear the only lighting—all at once terribly afraid, and then it passed _over_ her head, passing over the place where she'd seen him take people's bending away—_why_ hadn't he done that to her yet? What was he waiting for—?

Noatak ruffled her hair, and she froze in surprise. His hand was warm, large, and it ran almost affectionately through her hair. "Good girl," he said. Korra looked up, unable to hide her surprise and confusion and her frown, growing above everything else, and he laughed quietly. "Good behaviour is rewarded," he echoed. "This doesn't have to be the nightmare that you thought it would be… together—the three of us—" He stopped abruptly, and leaned down once more, leaning over her. Korra tried to incline back away from him—_ouch_, she was really beginning to hate that damned bed—and instead looked up at his broad chest, blocking out the light above her.

He was untying the knots. A wave of relief swept through her. She was hurting so _much_ by this point, leg muscles, back; all of her was aching awfully. Just to lie down would be blessed respite. Her hands fell limply to the floor, thudding against it heavily. She hissed and dragged them across the floor—her arms were heavy, so heavy—to sit in her lap. Where the ropes had been, there were angry red marks across her wrists, and the pins and needles were stinging like a swarm of insects… but they were no longer tied up, and they would recover. Gently, she nursed them in her lap, turning them over, rotating her wrists slowly and rubbing them together.

Noatak stood there, watching her. She pretended not to notice. Now that all his attention was focused on her, she felt a whole lot more confused about this situation. She'd rather that he'd go away and leave her alone again. "Would you like to lie down?" he inquired, and she knew what that meant, even if it was innocent; there were only two beds in this room and neither occupant was volunteering to give one up. "It's a choice," he added. "I can't be strict with you all the time… I'm willing to let you make your own choices on occasion." She wondered if this was some kind of trap. Well, if it was, she was going to spring it.

"The floor's fine," she muttered, staring at the item in question, waiting for the dire punishment for rejecting his offer. He nodded graciously, and lay down on the bed. She lifted her eyes suspiciously, and met his back. His breathing was coming that much more evenly and deeply, and she suspected that he might actually be asleep already. "Huh," she said thoughtfully, and then looked around in paranoia; she hadn't quite meant to say that out loud.

She locked onto Tarrlok in passing. He was sitting up there, cross legged, absolutely composed except for the frown on his face, creasing up his forehead, and he was looking coolly at her. It was… really creepy, actually. She wished that he'd stop, but now she was engaged in some kind of staring contest and hell if she was going to be the one who looked away first. He blinked and she was safe to shake her head—and scoot away from the bed now that she was no longer tied to it—and collect herself if this turned out to be yet another bickering match.

But Tarrlok just looked tired when she sneaked another peek at him. Not angry, or sulky, or cold; just tired. "Don't ruin my second chance," he said, breaking the silence, and she jumped. "Don't ruin my second chance with the brother I thought was dead." Korra thought that she might have seen Noatak move out of the corner of her eye… that was paranoid, though, it must have just been in sleep.

"Remember who kidnapped me?" she asked, voice hoarse with thirst and disbelief. "Yeah, I think that was you."

A flash of fury passed across his face; he removed it to look composed again. He was sitting up ramrod straight, tenser than she had ever seen him. "And you've made me regret it every step of the way," he snapped. "Who left me when the Equalists arrived? You're a mercenary little coward at heart, Avatar."

"I left you because you'd thrown me across a building and then _kidnapped_ me! And you arrested my friends just to get back at me too," she protested. "I wasn't exactly going to stick around for _you_."

"Well, _thank you_, glad to know that the Avatar isn't interested in people she doesn't like. It's probably a good thing that we removed you from world politics; you would have demolished anything you took a casual dislike to. And," he added, much more bitterly, crossing his arms, "you think that I would have just killed you, you thought that I was a murderer…" Korra was fairly sure that her mouth was hanging open. Had she _hurt his feelings_ or something? Of course she'd thought that he might be a murderer! He hadn't exactly been the warmest to her before now, and he'd had a hideous man for a father—she remembered his nightmares and something twisted uncomfortably in her stomach—and with his brother, _Amon_, nudging him on it hadn't seemed to be a long throw.

He must have seen the astonished expression on her face, because he snorted bitterly and uncrossed his arms to fidget with the covers, running them through his fingers. "I'm… sorry?" she said, not at all sorry. "What do you expect?" Before Tarrlok could speak again—he looked well and truly incensed—a low drawl came from the other side of the room.

"Go to sleep, both of you," Noatak said, rolling over to give both of them disapproving looks. There was a slightly steely tone to his voice that she hadn't heard in a while. It sent cold shivers down Korra's spine, and she decided that now was not a good time to reverse the progress she'd been making in showing herself to be a nice, well behaved hostage. _You'll get them back_, she soothed herself. _You'll make them pay_.

Grumbling underneath his breath, Tarrlok turned his back on all of them. Korra lay down uncomfortably on the floor. It was marginally better than being tied to a bed post. It was not much better. After a moment, something fluttered down from above, and the blanket that had been draped over the covers was half over her. She looked up, but he had already closed his eyes and was feigning sleep very convincingly, and tugged the blanket to properly lie over her. Whatever game Amon was playing, she was fairly that sure that two could play it.

With a glance at Tarrlok, she amended that statement. Perhaps even three.

* * *

She was utterly stiff when she woke up. It turned out that the floor was not a kind bed.

Blearily, rubbing at her eyes and cursing the day that she'd gone to confront Tarrlok, she made herself sit up—oh, she hoped that those weren't her bones creaking that she was hearing there, she was way too young for that—and tried to figure out what had woken her. It clearly hadn't been natural, judging by how tired she still felt… although maybe that was just a lovely leftover from the pressure point business earlier.

The train had come to a halt, the sky above turning a deep, rich blue shot through with red, and Korra realised that it was nearly dark. She'd slept for an age. Pulling her knees up to her chest to fold herself inwards, she ruminated uneasily on that. They could be anywhere by this point. They'd passed unrecognisable terrain _hours_ ago; where on earth had they ended up? She could only see sections, tiny strips of outside as the curtains fluttered in what must be a gentle breeze—she felt it brush over her face and welcomed the coolness in the stuffy cabin—and then it was blocked altogether as Noatak stood up.

He had a feverish, excited energy to him that she wasn't sure that she liked. Tarrlok was just as sluggish as she was, though upon sitting he had instantly gone to check his hair, patting it down and moaning quietly about the lack of a mirror in which to fix it. She regarded him with some scorn. All _this_ going on, and he was worried about his _hair_. When he caught her eye, however, she looked away to the floor and didn't engage. Noatak had made it clear that he didn't much like their bickering, and she wasn't going to annoy him if she could help it…

"We've arrived," he announced unnecessarily, making her jump as his voice rang through the silent cabin. "Good."

"Arrived where?" Korra muttered, but she went ignored. It was time to get up—Tarrlok was shrugging on his jacket once more, still patting at his hair with an unhappy expression—and be prepared for the next opportunity in which to escape. Perhaps not tonight, though. She felt awful, still, weak and drawn and her headache from earlier had not subsided much at all.

Noatak looked her and his brother over. "Well, then," he said, "if we're ready—do you have our luggage?" he added as an aside to Tarrlok, who nodded and pulled it out from underneath the bed. "There's only one issue remaining." Korra wasn't paying much attention, trying to peer out of the window to gauge where they were, letting his talking wash over until he moved to stand right in front of her. She jumped again, looking up at him with some trepidation. "My apologies," he said, with the barest trace of feeling, and he jabbed neatly to block her chi faster than she could see.

Korra was knocked backwards with the force of his movements—he was a tall man, and _strong_, moreover—to stumble over the bed. She fell momentarily, nearly onto Tarrlok—and leapt right back up as if she'd been scalded powerfully. _Ouch_, she thought irritably, rubbing at the points that he'd jabbed. _Ouch_. The question remained, one that had returned with nagging persistence; why hadn't he taken away her bending altogether? She glanced thoughtfully at Tarrlok. He hadn't even blocked Tarrlok's chi, not that she'd seen. A thought occurred to her that she nearly physically reacted to—Noatak looked at her, and she tried desperately to make her expression flat—

He _couldn't_ be planning to teach her bloodbending. That—comment about more bloodbenders—but at the time she'd taken that to be even creepier, a sort of… no, she didn't really want to think about that, but what if he'd just meant teaching her to bloodbend? Surely he'd know that she'd never, _ever_ say yes to that, never ever learn bloodbending. Katara had impressed upon her just how evil it was, and she'd seen the tears in her beloved master's eyes as she'd remembered Hama and what that woman had made her do—but Amon would know that, surely, and if she learned bloodbending then she might have power over them and she was quite sure that no matter how much freedom he gave her, he would never allow her to have more power than he did.

Somebody gave her a none-too-gentle prod in the back, and she winced at the unwelcome intrusion into her thoughts. Tarrlok stared down at her as she tipped her head to find out who was poking her. He looked away with something resembling contempt and then, oddly, his eyes slid back to her as if drawn and his face carried a much more naked expression; she saw a hint of weakness, of… desire—

Korra snapped her head around. She was _not _interested in that—she nearly looked back again, just to _check_, she could not have seen what she thought she had seen—but if she _had_, then that was dangerous, if Tarrlok was harbouring those… those sorts of… when she was essentially a captive, she needed to know to protect herself—_and_, something added sensibly, _that's something that you can exploit_, but she was reeling away from _that _in horror, _never ever never ever, _she chanted to herself.

"Move," Tarrlok said, and his voice caught oddly, slightly hoarsely. It might just be that he hadn't spoken in a while, she thought, but she wasn't comforted by that. Then he dumped a heavy bag into her arms, and most of mental capacity was redirected into the powerful occupation of not throwing up or falling over.

She shuffled along, dragging her feet, strangely reluctant to leave; the train, however tenuous, was a link to Republic City, having come from there. With an impatient sigh, Tarrlok grabbed her arm altogether and began dragging her along the corridor. He was steadfastly refusing to look at her. That wasn't a good sign. Either way, if what she suspected was… true… he seemed to struggling with himself over something; his expression was changing subtly moment by moment and she watched for a second, fascinated, before averting her gaze.

Amon was waiting up ahead, exasperated. "Do you think it's proper to be dragging my _wife_ everywhere?" he said, pulling Korra from Tarrlok over to him—_oh, _good, she thought sourly—and wrapping an arm loosely around her shoulder.

They stepped off the train with a nod and a polite comment from the staff man standing there. Korra nearly shuddered with how politely he addressed them; was he so blind? Could he not see how unhappy and ill she looked, how drawn and irritably Tarrlok was and how incongruously cheerful Amon was? She considered trying to signal him somehow, and cast it off as too obvious. Amon was holding her not too tightly, but fairly close to him, and surely Tarrlok would notice… Her mind wouldn't stop churning out more and more hare-brained schemes to escape. She had to be cleverer than this, smarter than her enemy.

"I think that we should take another train," Amon said thoughtfully, looking at a timetable. Korra looked around at the train station. It was less impressive than Republic City's; older, for one thing, grubbier and showing some signs of neglect. There were more platforms, but several of them looked as if they weren't currently in use. She squinted, trying to read a sign to find out where she was, and then she was being gently steered back around to look at the timetable with the two of them. "Pay attention," he told her, in a gratuitously sweet, dripping tone. Did he think that was how husbands talked to wives? She'd never heard Tenzin talk to Pema like that. "Ah, there's one…" He looked up, around, jerkily and set off quickly, dragging Korra along with him. "There's a train leaving to where we want in five minutes," he called back to Tarrlok, whose expression was quite as resentful as Korra was feeling.

Resentment was quickly overpowered by nausea. She'd never really recovered from the pressure point, having been tied up for hours and then sleeping on a moving floor. They paid for a ticket impressively rapidly and then were actually running for the train. Amon's grip on her arm was fierce; she considered trying to slow down and accidentally get lost, but he nearly _dislocated her shoulder_, judging by that jolt that was not a sensible plan, but she felt so _sick_, she couldn't win either way…

They leapt onto the overnight with a minute or so to spare, to the amusement of the conductor, and then Korra turned his smile sour by vomiting in the corridor.

* * *

"Leave me alone to _die_," she moaned at Amon, wishing that he'd put her down. She was tired of being carried everywhere like a rag doll, tired of being weak and stretched, tired of everything hurting… they'd worn her down in distressingly little time. She'd do anything to make them leave her _alone_.

Insultingly enough, he chuckled. "If I have to carry you many more times, then I'll think about it," he said, and she couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He'd demonstrated a sense of humour, however bizarre… "Open the door, would you..?" he asked—presumably to Tarrlok, who grunted—and moved through. _Another change of scenery_, she thought gloomily, another journey further and further away from the people she loved, who had declared war, who had thrown Republic City into chaos for her…

He set her down on what might have qualified as a bed to the people who had built the train, but was significantly less impressive to a dizzy, sick Korra. _Cheapskates_, she thought, promptly rolling off it in giddy confusion. The floor came up to meet her far too quickly, and her_ nose_, _ouch_, her _head_. She groaned, long and low, and tried to push herself off the ground. She had managed to get roughly a centimetre off the ground before a whistle sounded and suddenly the whole train jerked and began to move, sending her rolling sideways underneath the bed. Her legs tangled and hit the frame, but the rest of her skidded under it altogether, and she hit her head on the wall.

Utterly bewildered and pained, Korra began to laugh; there was nothing else left that she could do, this was just her battered, confused, bloody _typical _luck. A face appeared in the gap between floor and wood. "I think she's lost it," Tarrlok said, looking dubious and reaching for her shoulder. He pulled her roughly—she skidded back across the floor, stomach lurching, letting out a maniacal chuckle—by one shoulder and one foot back out into the light. They were both looking down at her; one expression exasperated, the other regarding her as if she was some strange, rabid animal.

"You are far more trouble than I envisaged," Amon told her, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. Korra tried to contain her laughter, sure that it wasn't appropriate right now, but a cascade of giggles erupted from her the second she attempted to stem them. She was getting a stitch too, could _anything else_ go wrong? Maybe she could develop a life threatening illness, there was still time before they arrived wherever this train was going. "I can't bring myself to kill you just yet…" he added thoughtfully, and her sense of hilarity was cut off abruptly. She stared up, trying to make her eyes settle in one place and stop roaming. It was a lost cause. She closed them instead. "Stopped? Good. You need some rest, I think." He heaved her up with some effort—she wasn't _that_ heavy, surely—and sighed again, setting her back down. "We can't tie her to the bed—can't sleep on the floor..."

Tarrlok shrugged. "I don't see a problem with it," he said coolly.

Korra opened her eyes again to glare at him. "You," she announced, to their apparent surprise, "are a _lore _sooser. Lose soorer." There was a dull silence. "_Yes_," she added.

"She clearly needs rest," Noatak said to Tarrlok, with the air of explaining something simple to a small child. Even Korra, who was beginning to suspect that she was a little tired currently, could see that Tarrlok didn't like that. "The floor won't do, and being tied down is hardly restful."

Without warning, her eyes filled with tears. "If I had _Naga_," she said, in a tiny voice, "just Na… Naga…" Tarrlok wasn't looking at her, she noticed scornfully. She hoped he felt bad, scummy scum-scum—

"Well… close enough," Noatak said thoughtfully, and he turned to his brother, who looked faintly alarmed.

"What?" Tarrlok said, nearly snapping—and he must have realised it, because he raised his hands apologetically as if to ward off Noatak altogether, looking contrite but slightly horrified but if she squinted she could detect something else, something that she wasn't entirely familiar with… "No. Noatak, _no_, I _can't_."

"You can't?" Noatak asked, and that artificially polite tone was about as creepy as it got. Korra shuddered.

Tarrlok looked almost pleading. "You must know that I'm—having some difficulties—I—"

"Understandable," Noatak said, with an attempt at a smile. Korra watched from brother to brother, resisting the urge to close her eyes. She didn't understand what they were talking about, but she was sure that it pertained to her. "I've been carrying her for the past day; it's your turn to shoulder the burden." His mouth twisted sardonically on the word _burden_, and Korra watched it move with some fascination. With a resentful look to Noatak, Tarrlok hefted up her bodily and carted her over to the pathetic excuse of a bed.

She dug her fingers into the sheets, determined not to roll away this time—just wanted to _sleep_—and squeaked in surprise as Tarrlok sank down next to her. "What?" she said, a brief moment of lucidity breaking through the fog occupying her brain—well, this wasn't right, what was going on?

"Shut up," he said, seeming considerably bad tempered. He wasn't looking at her, either, and shoved her right back up against the wall before sprawling across most of the bed. She swallowed an aggressive "Hey!" upon catching sight of the thunderous expression on his face, and turned over. Maybe she could pretend that he wasn't there. Her head was swimming so that nothing quite felt real. Pretending that Tarrlok didn't exist couldn't be too much of a stretch.

She sneaked a look over her shoulder. He too was lying with his back to her, hunched over defensively. He wasn't trying anything. In fact, he seemed pretty wound up about this whole situation. Korra fiddled with her fingernails. This wasn't _comfortable, _per se, but it wasn't the floor and he didn't seem quite as actively pleased by her misery as he had been earlier. All the same, she pondered, it would probably be ages before she managed to sleep.

Minutes later, she had drifted off altogether. Wide awake on the other side, Tarrlok stared down at the floor, wrestling with himself long into the night. He hadn't slept in what was beginning to feel like a lifetime. The nightmares waited on the other side, after all.

* * *

Korra awoke far too soon but feeling blessedly rested. At last, the headache was gone and she no longer felt dizzy or nauseous. She flexed her fingers, feeling herself move smoothly, and grinned. Yeah, all faculties back on board and ready to raise hell.

Then she became aware of something poking into her back and sucked in all her breath in one go. Was that…? Could that be? She wasn't sure because, well, there weren't that many opportunities or whatever you were supposed to call them down at the South Pole Compound, but if what she suspected was true—if what she suspected was in fact—

There was a hand flung over her hip. That shot her over the edge, and she yelped aloud, twisting to get away from the hand and realising too late that she was in fact crammed into a very small space with another human being. She hit the wall with an almighty thud, and Tarrlok tumbled backwards with an intensely surprised whimper; he managed to stay on the small bed with what might have been sheer force of will and looked around for his attacker. He had already been dishevelled, and the wild expression made him look as if he had just crawled out of the swamp.

"What _is_ it?" he hissed, with a cautious glance in Noatak's direction. The man in question was levering himself up onto an elbow, his face sleepily quizzical—Korra looked away from a bare chest, uncomfortable—and waiting for an explanation. "What on _earth_ happened that you felt the need to wake me up like… like _that_!" he finished more loudly, clearly so outraged that he was unable to find a suitable simile. Korra was fairly sure that she was an interesting shade of scarlet by this point, and rearranged her clothing so that she had something to do with her hands. She wasn't sure that she could say anything about, well, _that_ with Noatak's drowsily benign, amused look onto proceedings. "Well?" Tarrlok demanded, running a hand through his hair with force that suggested irritation.

"Nothing," she mumbled, feeling embarrassed and conflicted and wishing that they'd just… hit her or something, push her about again and stop acting like _people_ all the time. "_Nothing_," she said, more defensively, as they continued to not go away.

"You woke me up," he said, fuming, and she saw that he was faintly red as well and he'd hauled the blanket over his lap. She shot him a disapproving, dark look—if she couldn't say it, then she'd still make it clear, and accordingly he went slightly redder. He muttered something that sounded like, "Not my fault" and went quiet, looking to his brother. Noatak shrugged and stretched, things shiftingand… undulating as he moved. Korra decided that the wall was currently fascinating and stared at it determinedly.

"Do you not want to know what caused such an explosive awakening?" he asked, and Korra wondered suspiciously if he knew and was… teasing_._ Teasing was the wrong word, really, for however much Noatak tried to put on the caring, joking exterior there was always a coldness to his eyes that never went away.

Tarrlok spluttered, and Korra saw there in his foolish, sheepish face the same suspicions that she harboured. Gloomily, she thought that they were both just dancing along in Amon's hand, held there as puppets; a vague feeling of unease that whatever she did, she was still moving how he wanted her to. However domestic, amusing this might feel there was an undercurrent of discomfort and the feeling that things were wrong and sick and off kilter. He was trying to lull her into a false sense of security, she decided, or he considered her so small a threat that he was relaxing and actively indulging himself by jerking them about. She was sure now that he had known full well that putting her and Tarrlok in a bed together—and here she flushed red, but continued down the avenue of thought, it was important—would be awkward and strange and horrible; that slightly smug cast to the way he watched them interact with aloof amusement was not her imagination. He was playing them off against each other, but she couldn't think _why_, couldn't find a reason that would make _sense_.

"You should change," Amon said, with a faint smile, throwing back the covers and getting to his feet. He dragged out one of the suitcases and began to rifle through it, crouching down. Something new was thrown to Korra, which she managed to catch this time, and held up to catch the light. It was clothing in much the same vein as what she'd been wearing up to this point; richly made, soft and embroidered delicately, clearly the clothing of someone who dressed simply but expensively. The blue was lovely and deep, and she held it to her chest for a moment, almost hugging it for comfort.

Korra had learned her lesson where modesty was concerned, and decided to change quickly to spare herself any further embarrassment. She was acutely, awfully aware of Tarrlok shuffling away with what looked like horror and his almost compulsive, furtive glances back at her every few seconds. She fumbled a few times but was otherwise blessedly quick and installed inside clothes safely once again. It did occur to her that nobody had packed any underclothes, and she was revoltingly still wearing old ones, but there was nothing that she could do about that right now and she decided unhappily to put it out of her mind. She'd never been particularly neat or obsessively so, but she was finding more and more that she liked her home comforts and the lack of them ached and nagged at her as one more thing that was wrong.

She was undeniably homesick.

* * *

The train station that they arrived at was end of the line, and it showed. If the last one had been a step down from Republic City, then this place was a flying leap down from _that_. It needed paint. A lot of paint. Maybe it could do with a new building entirely. This structure seemed to be falling down altogether, judging by the cracks in the base. It was a dull, faded green that was entirely flaked away in places. There was barbed wire around the perimeter—as if anyone would want to sneak in—rusting unobtrusively away into nothing.

All in all, it had an air of quiet neglect and abandonment that did not bode well for Korra's dreams of someone coming to rescue her. She knew that she was going to have to rescue herself, something that she'd been trying to put off the realisation of for some time, and the knowledge settled in her chest heavily. She was… on her own.

"Charming place," Noatak said dryly, with a healthy topping of contempt.

"You brought us here," she muttered and if he heard, he pretended not to.

He hefted their bags and looked to his brother with that small, ironic smile. "We should get moving." Tarrlok nodded, struck mute, and Korra looked at him curiously, wondering what he was thinking. Most of the time he was simply sullen; she couldn't tell if he was just mourning for his cushy life in Republic City, the work of a lifetime, or if he was genuinely conflicted about this situation. She wasn't going to bet that he felt real remorse, but sometimes… when the light hit him in a certain way…

There was nobody in the ticket booth, and Korra noted with a grimace that the glass itself was cracked. This seemed more like a ghost town than anything else; a couple of other people had got off with them, but they had quickly disappeared off ahead, and they hadn't looked particularly lawful. Korra shuddered as a cold wind blew around her, and clutched her fur closer to her face. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. The land was almost entirely flat here, just cracked earth and dust blowing around, little shrubs and pockets of trees dotting the land like scars.

Noatak held up a hand the moment they passed to the other side. "Wait," he said quietly. "Visitors approaching…"

"Are we defending ourselves?" Tarrlok asked, immediately all business.

Noatak shook his head and Tarrlok looked almost disappointed. "No. Only if I say so. Let me handle this…" He beckoned them forward, and they walked on. Even Korra, cut off from her bending and the extra awareness that lent her, could now hear people approaching. In seconds they were surrounded, the men appearing almost as if out of nowhere; all of them thin, hardened, unpleasant looking people decked out in ripped finery. Some held weapons; others were ready in earthbending stances. One leered at her, and Korra considered punching his nose back through his skull.

Bandits. It seemed that this was bandit territory.


	4. FOUR

I'm going to be on holiday for the next few weeks, so the next update will be a while. Here is your chapter~

plus GUYS WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME THIS CHAPTER SAID SEVEN, it's said SEVEN for weeks now -facepalm- Corrected to FOUR!

* * *

**FOUR**

* * *

Evidently, the bandits weren't stupid; they launched themselves forward with considerable determination. Korra glanced nervously at her companions. She could fight without her bending, but she wasn't used to fighting without it against someone who _could_ bend. Earthbending injuries weren't at all kind, and they tended to involve broken bones.

Amon held up his hands, and the gesture was so incongruous that one man stopped altogether. "Stop," he said, utterly calm. The majority of them hurtled still onwards, and he neatly flipped over a man wielding something that looked like a pickaxe, landing him winded and gasping on the ground. The sportswoman in Korra burned with jealousy to see the easiness and smoothness of those movements, minimalist but so powerful. He dealt with several more people; Korra ducked a rock which flew off harmlessly to the side, and tripped someone who was heading for Tarrlok.

When a good portion of their attackers were on the floor—they weren't taking prisoners, it seemed—Amon spoke again. "That unpleasantness could have been avoided," he said, and Korra recognised his statesman voice. Was some kind of speech coming? If there was, she was going to sit down; she was still tired from the travesty of yesterday. "You lack discipline." Korra rolled her eyes, and sat down on the bag she had been carrying. Amon ignored her totally. "I could give you discipline." There was a tone of heady excitement there. She frowned. Had he found a new project? He'd been a complete hypocrite as the leader of the Equalists—being a bender and all, not to _mention_ a bloodbender, though neither of the brothers used it often—so perhaps he was just attracted to causes, to movements that he could exploit.

Bandits seemed a bit low after the Equalists, but Korra supposed that he was taking what he got. The men were listening, poor sods, poor, gullible sods—when one spat out, "We don't need _you_ to tell us what to do," a few others simply looked wary and thoughtful and didn't say anything.

"It wouldn't necessarily be telling you what to do," Amon said, and he _was_ charismatic. He moved fascinatingly, and his voice carried a tone of genuine urgency that was making her heart race that little bit faster. He looked around at his audience, pitiful as it was, and made eye contact with each person. "I could teach you to fight adequately, show you to bigger pickings… where do you live? Some hovel? I could hand you houses, riches… What _do_ you want? Is it money, jewels—a good meal, perhaps, eating well and filling your stomachs."

Somebody snorted. "And how exactly are you going to do that?" Korra looked around—currently, it was as if she wasn't there at all—at each face, and didn't find the evil that she'd been expecting in people who waylaid strangers to steal their things. These people looked… tired. Thin. Most of them were scarred, and wide, distrustful eyes stared out, all fixed on Amon. Their clothes had once been fine, she was sure, but they were too patched and darned now to really get a sense of how they truly had been when new. The weapons were poor quality. The pickaxe seemed as if it was attached to the handle by only a thread; it listed at an odd angle, and Korra suspected that one day the bearer of that axe would do more damage to himself than anyone else.

Amon spoke quietly, but she could hear the passion in his voice. It rumbled through her and made her shiver. "First," he began, "I'd teach you to fight. Not to batter, not to bludgeon, but to _fight_, with skill and ease. I'd teach you noiselessness, to take from your opponent before they have even realised your presence. I'd find you targets; rich, weak targets and you would take their wealth effortlessly. With that wealth, you could better yourselves." He turned around, sympathy on his face, an utterly alien creature on those cruel features. "I know your lot. Poor men. You saw your fathers work, farm until their blood ran into the soil and they died as cracked as the earth, knew siblings to die of hunger whilst the life of your towns fled to the big cities and the hills became ghostly. When there was nothing left, there was nothing but stealing, and so you stole. After all, those people who fled to make their fortunes… they deserved it." He paused, and the air was tense. "I know you, poor men, and I could make you _rich_."

Korra was surprised to find her arms rippling with goose bumps. It was undeniably frightening to her how he used words, how he spoke them so softly that they seemed to lull her into agreeing with him before she really focused on what he was saying. She'd been too terrified when he'd been speaking at rallies to really listen, and now that she had she found a bizarrely magnetic man. She could… she could see why disillusioned people flocked to him.

There was a dull, dead silence, and then one of the men who had been crouching on the floor—having been thrown—rose to his feet. The look in his eyes almost made her look away from embarrassment. It was a naked sort of hope, desperation in what had been flat despair. "I say yes," he said feverishly, looking around at his companions. Most of the men looked troubled; some openly distrustful and a couple sharing the same zealous look. "I say—either way, does it matter?"

"Of course it matters, blockhead," snapped the dubious man from earlier. He was older, more middle aged, and time had not been kind to him, etching deep lines in his face. "You want to end up in prison? What's your bloody wife going to do then? Your kids?"

Amon chuckled softly. "I assure you," he said with quiet confidence, "that nobody will be taken prisoner under my tutelage."

"You can't say that for sure. There's always some idiot who don't listen to orders and then there's a pair of kids with no dad about the place what the rest of us have to look after." He looked around at the group of people, who appeared slightly more sheepish with that short, sharp speech. "I say we stay as we are, small but… surviving, surviving." He gestured loosely at the three of them. "Fancy strangers waltzing into camp… nothing good can come of that…"

"I understand your cynicism. Your life has been difficult, unbelievably difficult—no helping hand, not a single person caring," Amon continued, low and persuasive and almost heart-felt. "It seems too late in the day for hope to come calling. But my promises are not false and empty. You saw me fight; I can't give you that, this late, but I can teach you to overpower anyone but a master. Hazarding a guess, you are a non-bender? I can teach you to foil any bender in the midst of their native element. Is that not an attractive prospect?"

"Let's just take them back and see what the others say first," someone else interrupted, looking pleading. "Just to see… what everyone else says…" He trailed off under a fierce glare from the main speaker, and shrugged hopelessly. "It sounds _good_, even you can't deny that."

The other man grunted. "It sounds _too_ good, lad. But if you want this so damn bad then I can't stop you." He looked around. "The rest of you?" he asked, voice heavy with contempt. Some of the others looked embarrassed, some actively defiant, but most nodded. Korra just sighed to be going further off the beaten track. Any hopes that the bandits might have managed to beat Amon dwindled quietly. "Well then," he said, "we should at least tie them up."

Amon shrugged. "I have no objections to that."

"_I_ do," Korra spoke up, outraged. "I'm not being tied up _again_; my hands are going to _fall off_." Some of them were looking at her as if they'd never noticed that she was there, and she wobbled with anger. She was not going to run about with bandits in some godforsaken corner of the Earth Kingdom while Republic City was erupting into war and her friends had no idea where she even was.

"You don't have to be tied," the man said dismissively, and she considered that worse, if that was even possible.

"Excuse me," she said indignantly, "I am _really_ dangerous."

"I recommend that you tie her," Amon interjected, and the man tying his hands looked up, startled as if a wild animal had turned on him. Korra was subjected to some dubious looks, which piqued her pride considerably, and then someone moved forward with a sigh, fishing some rope out of his pocket. She kicked him irritably in the back of the knees, a tried and tested method. With a surprised "_Oof_" he hit the ground, and she eyed him with a distinct lack of sympathy.

They tied her hands behind her back with somewhat more venom than was required, and she seemed to have hurt the pride of the man that she'd kicked judging by the way he kept glaring at her. Simmering, irritable, she marched along in the ludicrous parade they made, her wrists chafing uncomfortably. It wasn't long before she saw buildings in the distance; strangely lopsided, some of them, and as they drew closer she saw similar signs of neglect there as she had everywhere since Republic City. This corner of the world seemed to have been forgotten altogether, and it had clearly been decaying a long time. Despite the disrepair of the town itself—for this had once been a town, however many buildings were actually occupied now—she could see people moving about. This was inhabited, and by no small number.

"You brought _people_ back?" a woman called from the shade of a sloping roof, coarse and raucous. "We need food, you dozy lumps." Laughter echoed around at that, though Korra failed to see how it was amusing. She settled for glowering at everyone, confused faces of adults and children alike peeping at them as they went past.

They halted in front of an unusually well-kept house, one that had clearly actually been repainted, and the more outspoken man rapped on the door. It opened almost instantly, and a cheerful face peeked out. "We weren't expecting you back so soon—oh, what's this?" The gap widened further and an Earth Kingdom woman, drying her hands on a towel, stood there looking out at them curiously. "What on earth you doing with people?"

"Long story," he said tiredly, running a hand through wiry black hair. "Chen home?"

"Yeah—main room. You can't all come in, though," she added, giving them a dubious look over—her eyes alighted on Korra with powerful curiosity, and Korra stared right back until the woman moved over to Noatak, who she gave an almost appreciative look up and down. Yuck. "Six at most, or you'll be spilling out the windows."

The man shrugged. "All right." He beckoned to his cynical companion, who slouched forwards and into the house, and one of the others who'd seemed sympathetic to the idea of putting Amon in charge. The three of them—_all of them hostages now_, Korra thought gloomily, though she knew that this situation was all of Amon's choosing and _he_ could leave any time he wanted to—followed, awkward gait provided by their hands behind their backs.

The 'main room' was not impressive. There were a few chairs, some scrolls lying about carelessly and the remnants of a meal on a low table in the centre, and that was about it. Nothing adorned the walls, bare and warped in places, buckling inwards and outwards to create strange shapes. It was a little confusing to look at, and Korra turned instead to wiggling her hands and hoping fruitlessly to be untied soon. A disturbance startled her; a small man, previously unnoticed, rose from beside one of the chairs. He adjusted large spectacles as he shot up, and regarded the party with unveiled curiosity.

"What's this?" he asked, blinking owlishly, and Korra could tell that this man—Chen?—was of a different calibre to the others. The rest had a rough… peasant-y sound to them. Chen, with his spectacles, was definitely literate judging by all the scrolls and clearly in a position of power being in what seemed to be the largest and nicest house. Korra snorted quietly. Did she really want to figure out how this community worked? She wasn't _interested_. They didn't _matter_.

"This man's got a proposition," the outspoken man said, pointing to Amon. "I thought it was interesting, Zhen disagrees. Came to see what you think about it."

"Certainly," Chen said, pushing his spectacles up his nose. "Care to sit down?" He perched on a chair. Nobody else sat, and he sighed. "Fire away." Their guide explained, and Korra drifted away, bored. She stared at a knot in the wall, tracing it round and round. All she wanted was a good night's sleep—_without_ a bed buddy—and maybe something nice to eat… Her stomach gurgled and she nearly moved to put a hand on it absent-mindedly before remembering that her hands were tied… Amon was speaking again, that sense of urgent charisma all through his voice, and she thought that he had probably already convinced them… She realised with a jolt that someone was pointing directly at her—oh good, they hadn't completely forgotten her—and woke up a little. "Who's she?" he was saying, and she opened her mouth to reply, eagerly, but Amon steamrollered right over her.

"A companion," he said in a tone that made it quite clear that whatever arrangement they had was not up to discussion. The men gave her a more interested look. She wondered what they thought she was. Amon hadn't said wife, so he wasn't intending to use that story here. He was just going to let people come up with their own ideas. Great. Even better.

"I see. Will your… companion stay with you?"

"Certainly. Our companion is not entirely reliable," Amon said—Korra glared at him—"and on occasion needs watching."

Chen squirmed a little, and Korra suspected that he had caught onto the fact that his visitors were not entirely innocents themselves. He looked uncomfortable. There were so many weird people in the world. He lived with _bandits_, people who stole other people's things, and he felt weird about those with dubious origins. Then again, she remembered uneasily that speech of Amon's about dying and starvation and poverty—she pushed that away. They must have had options. If Amon was allying with them, then she was fairly sure that they couldn't be any good. Look at the Equalists, whose leader had turned out to be a bloodbender…

"As long as you're responsible for her," he said awkwardly, flushing a little red, "and we don't see anything… worrying, then it's your business." He was very definitely not looking at her, she noticed.

Amon inclined his head. "Of course."

"We'll provide you with lodgings… nothing grand, you understand, but it's what we have. Food tends to be communal, although if you want privacy we can discuss that, it's just more difficult… Is there anything else…? Oh, I suppose we'll need a meeting tomorrow to introduce you to the others—oh! Your bonds—Liu, untie them, what are they doing still bound—" Korra didn't miss the eye roll given by the man, who finally had a name. Amon was untied first, and he didn't move, just rubbing at his wrists with an amusedly rueful expression. Tarrlok, who had become ghostly and silent again—Korra hoped that he was being conflicted and difficult in there and not just imagining ridiculous things—was next. Liu approached her more warily, evidently vividly remembering being kicked in the knees, and untied the ropes quickly and deftly.

With a sigh, she rotated her wrists and shrugged her shoulders. They were beginning to feel awfully stiff… and they probably weren't going to get better any time soon. She needed a proper workout to work out all these kinks.

"Show them to something appropriate, will you," Chen said, distracted. It was not a question, and another eye roll was directed in his general direction as Liu beckoned them forward. Amon's hand settled heavily on Korra's shoulder, propelling her forward. She shook him off and marched ahead by herself, only to be pulled right back. Instead, he put an arm around her shoulders and directed her gently closer to him.

"Behave," he said softly, sounding almost jubilant. "You'll be getting new freedoms here, if you're good. Don't jeopardise that." She scowled and crossed her arms, stumbling a little under his weight, and refused to answer.

The people of the ghost town were openly curious about them, stopping their miscellaneous tasks to watch as they walked past—some children ran alongside them for a few steps until parents called them back—and Korra felt odd under their eyes. None of them knew who she was, not one had recognition in their expressions, and it wasn't like Republic City where she'd delighted in surprising people, the shock on their faces amusing. She ached for someone to find out—surely they knew that the Avatar was Water Tribe, surely they knew…

"Here you go," Liu said stopping, with a sideways glance at Amon, that childish hope popping back up again. "Are you—you're serious about training, teaching the people here?"

"You're afraid of one more disappointed hope," Amon said, with a hint of a smile. "I understand. My full intention is teach those who are willing to be taught. My words were not hollow. I know those like these, who teeter on the edge of starvation, deep in poverty. I would not disappoint those people." Korra curled her lip. How saintly he sounded. Liu looked relieved, however, and gave an awkward sort of bow to them before opening the door for them and hurrying off. "Well," Amon added irreverently, gesturing ahead, "ladies first." Korra's frown deepened and she stalked into the building, just wanting to sit down and rest again. This was all making her head hurt.

The house had not quite fallen down yet, but it looked as if it was determinedly on its way out. Instead of peeling paint, there remained only random swathes of it on the walls. One wall had a hole in it, and she could see into a derelict, ancient kitchen. There was no trace of any electricity; there didn't even seem to be running water, and the house itself was not big. Whoever had lived here, they had not been rich, and the house didn't seem as if it had been occupied for decades.

"Needs work," Tarrlok said ironically, the first words that he'd spoken for what must have been hours. His brother laughed.

"A downgrade, perhaps, after the mansions and beauty of Republic City… but not a train floor, so it has its advantages. Beggars can't be choosers, after all. We'll improve it." Korra had found some stairs, leading to what looked like a tiny upper floor, perhaps just an attic. They had caved in at one point, but glancing back at the other two exploring the four or so rooms available she was seized by a reckless desire and set off up them. They creaked worryingly at the first step, but she ignored that and simply moved faster, stepping more lightly.

Tarrlok had noticed. "What are you doing?" he called, the beginning of a threat emerging. "Come down from there." She leaped a caved stair and turned back to stick out her tongue.

"Make me," she taunted, tired of being silent and talked over and ignored.

"I will if you make _me_," he said irritably. "Noatak," he called to his brother, wandering somewhere, "she's doing something foolish."

"_She_ has a name, _Tarrlok_." Korra moved again, hearing the creaks increase in intensity as she remained stationary. She was reaching the big gap, debating how to clear it, only half her mind on the conversation. "And sure, call for your _mum_. Guess you can't do anything yourself."

He sighed. "Are you name-calling now? Don't be such a child. Come down from there before you hurt yourself." Gathering herself, she made a leap of faith and launched over the big gap. She nearly slipped, twisting in the air—below, she was sure that she heard a sharp intake from Tarrlok, but that might have been her, actually—but it didn't matter, she was going to make it anyway—

She landed lightly through a roll and up into a crouch, feeling inordinately pleased with herself. "Ha!" she said, turning around to poke out her tongue at Tarrlok again. "'Come down before you _hurt_ _yourself'_," she echoed mockingly, doing the best impersonation of his voice that she could. She jumped a little when Noatak appeared silently alongside his brother at the bottom of the stairs, but stayed right where she was. Noatak shrugged at Tarrlok.

"She's not doing anyone any harm up there. If it pleases her, she can run around in the attic all she wants—"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Korra called, crossing her arms.

"—but it means no food until she comes down. Would you prefer that I went to get it, or do you not mind?" Tarrlok shrugged in reply. "I think we passed some cooking on our way in… can you remember where?" Korra pricked up her ears, outrage at being constantly ignored forgotten in opportunity. With only one of them in the house, perhaps she could make a break for it while Noatak was exploring. She was on the first floor, though… Were there any windows up here, to see what the jump would be like?

Tarrlok was leaving—she heard the door _slam_—and then she was up and moving as soon as Noatak disappeared out of her line of sight. It really was more of an attic than another floor, but she found a window without much trouble. She peered out, and saw that it wasn't that far down. If she got caught, though… Hadn't she wanted to plan this time around? She'd definitely wanted to plan, but this was an opportunity that she hadn't had in a while, being left alone, and if she didn't seize moments as they came then she'd never get away.

The window was big enough to get out of—more of a hole, actually, there was no glass and the frame had rotted away in places—and she moved towards it. One last glance towards the bottom of the stairs to check that Noatak wasn't down there watching, and she moved with the utmost care and quiet into the window, then gripping the side of the building to lower herself down. She thanked any spirits out there that it wasn't as fragile as it looked, clutching onto it and clambering down. Her hands were quickly injured and beginning to bleed, but she hadn't fallen or lost her balance.

With an involuntary hiss of victory, she dropped onto the dry earth, and checked the side of the house; no windows on the ground floor, Noatak couldn't see her, and she'd been as quiet as possible getting out… Sucking in air carefully, Korra set off at a run as fast as she could.

She had no fixed plan for her destination, except to take into account that she needed shelter. It was oddly comforting to hear her feet thudding into the ground and to feel the familiar exertion of exercise, but the clothing she was wearing was much more restrictive than her own, and that was making everything that much more difficult.

She settled into the rhythm of one foot ahead of the other, and headed coolly for a group of scrubby trees; they were half-dead, but they were cover, and she needed to be hidden. Every so often, the sound of other footsteps echoed in her ears, and she would twist to look back—there would be nothing there and she would lose her balance for a moment, and slow down, and curse herself for being paranoid.

Korra made it to the trees. She hurtled into the first one with over enthusiasm. Momentarily and literally floored, she blinked up at the sky peeking through the pitiful foliage above her and groaned. She'd made it to her first goal, but she didn't feel very comforted. It didn't feel far enough, or safe enough. Grunting, she pulled herself back to her feet, and moved onwards not at a run but at a speedy jog. It would be foolish to use up all her energy here and now. The grove was bigger than she'd expected from a distance, and she was pleased with that, it meant that it would be harder to find her—

That was noise. She was sure of it. She hadn't made it. _Shit_. "Korra," called a patient voice, and she stiffened with shock, nearly stopping altogether. He couldn't have followed her that fast, that silently, it wasn't _possible_.

"Don't be foolish. You can come back now. We'll eat, and you'll still be allowed gentle freedoms." There was a pause, and she quickened her pace, trying to be as quiet as she could. "I'm perfectly aware of where you are," Noatak added. "If you want a chase then I'll give you one." A quiet chuckle. "You seem to like chases." Then he burst out from between the trees, startling a shriek out of her, and she called up energy reserves to charge away, but the trees that had been such a potential help were getting in the way now and she couldn't move—

_It wasn't much of a chase_, she thought dully as he smashed into her side, knocking her forcibly to the ground. She tried to kick him, her tried and tested last resort, and he seized her leg and forced it down, throwing himself at her to restrain her wild thrashing, straddling her altogether and grabbing her wrists—oddly reminiscent of her, trying to wake up a panicked Tarrlok in the middle of the night, but of course nothing alike—forcing them down until she couldn't move at all any more.

He was panting, that odd sick smile across his face; he looked excited rather than irritated, staring down at her on the ground. "Unimpressive," he said, actively laughing, "your first attempt was difficult, but this—this—pathetic, Avatar—"

"Get off me," she snarled, trying to free her legs. She was becoming increasingly claustrophobic, panicked, the bubble building suffocating in her chest until it felt as if it could explode. Being this close to _anyone_ was unlikeable; she didn't want to didn't want to didn't want to.

He chuckled again, still vibrantly excited and alive and pleased. "You'll come around," he said confidently. "You can have a life here, all of us can have a life—is it not a worthy cause, helping those who society has cast off and rejected for no reason but their perceived worthlessness?"

"Filthy hypocrite," she growled, and she spat in his face. He released one wrist to wipe it off, and she rose up furiously to punch him, twisting to try and get out from underneath him—they rolled frantically in the dirt for feverish, long seconds until her head thudded heavily against the hard ground and she stopped, stunned.

"Why a hypocrite?" he asked, sounding merely curious. The only sign he betrayed that they weren't having a normal conversation was his breath coming quicker than normal, and the slightly wild touch to his words.

"It's just the same—you and the Equalists, you just want _power_," she said, mind racing on how to free herself, "you don't care about—people society doesn't want, or whatever—" He was actually _really_ heavy, and he was crushing all the air out of her besides how uncomfortable and awful this was.

He chuckled, and she felt it reverberate disconcertingly through her. "Oh, Avatar," he said. "The Equalists would have arisen with or without me; their concerns were legitimate, you _child_. The Triads were the greatest influence over the poorest people, not the law—that's where the Equalists truly came from, the people who were granted no power by permitted methods and had to take it for themselves, fight to be heard… They needed a leader and I became that, gave them strength—just because their leader happened to be a bender doesn't invalidate their concerns, you silly child."

"Get off me," she repeated, not particularly interested in being lectured at.

"Power is attractive, it's true," he continued, applying more pressure to her wrists until she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. He promptly let go, letting her hands free, and watched as she brought them to her chest and looked distrustfully up at him, unmoving. "But people are much more so. To these people, I will be a saviour. I do intend to help them, and I will. You could aid that. It wouldn't be a dirty task, or an awful one; you would be teaching powerless people to protect themselves. Isn't that a worthy penance for my past errors, whatever you consider those to be?" She considered spitting in his face again.

Her legs were beginning to go numb. "Just let me go _home_," she moaned, tossing her head to one side and then back again. "All I want is to go home and see my friends, and you're _evil_, I'd never help you, _never_."

"The world is never quite so black and white as evil and good," he said, running a hand across her face. "Would you say that Yakone was evil?" She nodded determinedly, trying to shake off his hand. She suspected that if she tried to bat it away with her now free hands, they'd simply be pinned back down again. "Then what about his sons, growing up in that shadow? Surely they would deserve your pity, for having a monster for a father." Korra faltered for a moment, not sure how to reply to that, her thoughts tangling.

"It doesn't work like that," she burst out.

"Explain to me how it does work, then," he said peaceably, calmly. "I'm curious. Am I the criminal in your nightmares, the monster underneath the bed? I helped a movement that was foundering to band together, and I think you'll have noticed that I have never bloodbended you, Avatar, not even when you've been particularly infuriating."

"You must have some plan," she said. "Some motive."

He smiled. "I always have a plan. As for my motives… is it so reprehensible to want a family?" She blinked, once, twice, not entirely sure what she'd heard, and lay truly still for a moment. "That's what it takes to shock you into silence," he said, exasperated.

"A family," she echoed, eerily flat. "You want—a family." He nodded. "Get off me! Get off me RIGHT NOW," she said, her voice rising progressively to a bellow of panic. Before he could hold her down again, she managed to punch him fully and forcefully in the face; he rocked back, nursing his jaw in shock, and she rolled up, stumbling and taking a blissful few steps of freedom away—he collided with her once more and down they went, hitting a tree on the way—she was going to be bruised and cut all over when, if, she got out of this—

She was face down in the dust, and he held her there with an iron grip, sighing. "Not _here_—not right here in the dirt, Avatar, _really_. In time. Can you fault me for wanting a family? You yourself said that you thought my father was evil; my mother was, perhaps, a sweet woman who saw what she wanted to saw, after all those years of lies and secrets. There would be no lies and secrets between us. It wouldn't be a standard relation, by any means, but it would function if you let it." Korra choked on the dust she was inhaling and began to cough explosively, almost glad; it rendered her unable to reply. He pulled her up, nearly gently, and turned her around. "Is that so unpalatable?" She shrugged, letting her contempt show in every line of her body, breathing the sharp heaviness of it. "Would you deny me the family that I lost?" he breathed, lowering his head slowly.

Korra had plenty of time to push away, to duck her head or flee, but she was frozen in shock as he came closer and closer. With one hand tilting her face up, he closed his eyes as hers remained open, paralysed, and then his lips were on hers. (It was bizarre, she thought, how distant she felt whilst the sensations were so overwhelming.) His other hand cupped the back of her head, craning her in closer until she was standing on the tips of her toes. Her arms hung, useless, by her sides. The sheer incongruity rendered her unable to act.

_Do something, _said a quiet, panicked voice, coming as if from far away, just as he was gently coaxing her lips open; she felt his tongue sweep into her mouth, alien and unwelcome. She moved to raise her arms to _do something, do something_, and he was backing off anyway, his hands trailing off her head and shoulders to cross across his chest. She stared up at him, eyes wide and feeling strange in her own skin, tingling oddly, trying to decide what to do _now_.

Tarrlok came crashing out of the foliage, panting, and looked wildly at the two of them standing so stiffly, so close together in the middle of a wood. "What's going on?" he asked, after a moment of surveying them and evidently coming to the conclusion that _no_, there was no way to make this make sense without actively inquiring. "I assumed that—something had happened."

Korra jerked away from Noatak as if burned, reeling away with one hand to her mouth. She could still feel him there, incongruously soft. _A family_—it was so tragic, so ridiculous that she was having a hard time getting her head around it—it couldn't be true, he couldn't be motivated by such a… simple, childlike thing, he'd just said it to confuse her, it was _ridiculous_.

"Something did happen," Noatak said, and she didn't like that salacious tone at all; she looked up sharply at him with a confused frown.

"Get away from me," she said quietly, and felt herself go hot all over as he looked at her. That smile was receding and his eyebrows were drawing together in displeasure, and she stepped away. "Don't come near me."

"Noatak, _what did you do_?"

"Oh, nothing that you wouldn't do given the chance," he said, sounding aggravated. "I've seen you looking; you can't claim to be a saint, little brother."

Tarrlok blanched uncomfortably, eyes flicking towards Korra for just a second, and then he collected himself to look determined. "I never claimed to be a saint," he said, more gently, "but what happened? What did you do?" When nobody replied, he shifted uncomfortably and looked between the two of them. "The food's getting cold. I don't think it's fair to our hosts to waste it when they have so little," he said shortly, and turned dramatically to march back the way that he had come.

"Well, then," Noatak murmured, more to himself than anything else. He reached for Korra's arm; she ducked out of his grip deftly, adrenaline still coursing through her, and dashed after Tarrlok. Anything to not be alone with him; she would take Tarrlok's company over his right now. _Things had become really bad_, she thought, if she was actively seeking out Tarrlok. She caught up with him in surprisingly little time—he must have slowed down after his dramatic exit—and fell into step alongside him noiselessly. He didn't acknowledge her presence besides a brief glance at her, and they walked silently.

"Whatever he did," Tarrlok began, sounding frustrated—he stopped almost instantly, clearly turning something over in his mind turbulently, rubbing at his chin almost painfully—"I know—this—I've been regretting this ever since Republic City, if you must know. I did something wrong there. And I haven't been able to put it right." She waited as he paused, sure that there was more. "But finding Noatak again was so… I haven't seen him since I was essentially a child. I thought that he was _dead_. Finding him again was like getting back my family, but him being _Amon_, of all people—a new… _more_ tragic section in this sad story…

"I wanted to _try_," he said, an upset child, "because he was my brother, but I'm not sure any more whether this was right. I don't think it is. I think that… I've made a terrible mistake." And he looked at her, strangely pleading, and she looked back dully, still reeling. Every so often she could feel those hands holding her wrists and holding her down.

"Do you want a prize?" she heard herself say cuttingly, and she watched his open expression fall and close off to her.

He opened and closed his mouth. "Is that it?" he asked incredulously. "I tell you my doubts and fears, and—_do you want a prize_? What does _that_ mean? Do you not care? Are you perfectly fine with staying here at Noatak's whim until you're old and grey?" He threw the questions at her angrily as if they were weapons, and she refused to let them hurt her.

"What do you want from me?" she asked back. Her voice was tiny and tired, and some of his furious energy deflated as if it had never been.

"Nothing," he said, hardened, and stomped off ahead once more.

* * *

Korra took some food and hopped up the stairs. She wasn't sure whether it was really true or not, but she liked to think that they couldn't follow her up there; she thought that they might be too heavy to. So she settled at the top of the stairs, in sight in case they wanted to check on her—she wanted no more threatening or violence or them assuming that she'd made another escape attempt—and ate slowly, mulling over things.

Noatak had seemed genuine when he'd been talking about a family. Creepy and strange, but genuine. She didn't think that that had been some kind of ploy or lie, not really. It was too bizarre a lie. As for Tarrlok, she wasn't sure if he knew about those plans. He'd seemed utterly unsure and lost, even reaching out to her about it—she regretted rebuffing him a little, seeing now with a pang that she could have banded together with him against Noatak—but she might have driven him back to his brother for a little longer.

"I'm an idiot," she moaned, leaning back and sprawling across the floor.

Did she really think that, though? _No_, she answered herself, _no_. She knew why she'd done what she had done; it was a reality now and she just had to deal with it. Today had really just established—besides already being unbearably long, it seemed an age ago that she'd left Republic City—that she needed a proper plan to get away. Also that staying was absolutely out of the question, and could not be an option. Tarrlok was still the weak link, though she'd pushed him back again, she'd have to work on softening him up—oh, _ew_—and avoiding Amon.

It got dark slowly and she watched the sunset, unwilling to go downstairs and join the two men but incredibly bored. She had to admit that out here, the natural landscape was beautiful. She'd been somewhat starved of that in Republic City, the lights blocking out the stars and the skies, starved of endless lands rolling out around her. For a moment, she ached with missing where she'd grown up; the harsh beauty of the sprawling ice, treacherous and dangerous and imposing. Like a shadow of the South Pole this, the whiteness inverted into a red desert, was made fantastical by the setting sun.

The sky was lovely, and she looked at it and drank it in. It cast shades and highlights over what had looked flat, revealing fissures and tiny mountains in the ground that shifted as the sun sank. Korra watched, and the massiveness of the land comforted her. She had the whole of the earth to escape them in, if she could just get away properly. The world outside went dark and finally all the stars were out, and Korra was still and at rest while her surroundings gradually went totally silent.

She leaned against the wall, and smiled faintly. It was possible to escape. It would be a ridiculous end for the Avatar to live the rest of her days in a tiny ghost Earth Kingdom town with a bunch of bandits. Now that they were around other people and planning to stay, the two of them couldn't keep her cooped up all the time, people would talk…

A bellow echoed from downstairs, and she was jerked from her sleepy thoughts. She knew that noise, she thought, brushing her hair from her face—she needed to do something with it, it had been roughed up earlier in the fight with Amon, ugh—though she hadn't heard it for a couple of days. It was Tarrlok. It sounded as if he was having a nightmare again. Her heart beating so fast that the sound filled her eyes for a moment she crawled to the very edge of the stairs, feeling around carefully, and peered down into the gloom. There was no light here, none at all, and she couldn't see anything…

Surely Noatak would do something for his brother. He wouldn't just lie there and let Tarrlok shout like that—if only because the neighbours would complain, surely… The longer that she waited, Korra felt more doubtful; she couldn't tell if it had been seconds or minutes, but those dreadful noises wouldn't stop, and they were beginning to rebound in her head. They were _horrible_. Making up her mind, and resolving that if he even lay a finger on her she was _done_ waking him up from his damned nightmares; she had enough bruises already, Korra began to gingerly make her way down the stairs.

She nearly fell more than once, and she had an enormous splinter in her right palm that was hurting _unbelievably _badly—she stopped to fumble at it, and managed to get it out with a hiss of pain—but she made it to the bottom of the stairs without dreadful mishap. Stretching out her arms blindly, she touched wall and fumbled along until she found a door and hurtled through it. The noise was much louder down here, and she wondered how heartless Noatak was to ignore _that_, and then she tripped over him.

"I hate you," she mumbled, and she gave him an unkind, powerful slap to the face. He spluttered, flailing still outwards—one arm brushed her shoulder, and she was _so_ ready to hit him back, but the blow had so little strength to it that she took pity—and choked briefly, and then he was awake. He lay still for a moment, coughed, and sat up so quickly that he nearly hit her.

"Nightmares again?" he asked, and his voice was so pompous and guardedly aloof that she nearly laughed at it.

"_Guess_," she said, heavy with sarcasm. She was only half concentrating on him; was Noatak even _here_? She thought that he would have been inhuman to sleep through this, and it seemed that he hadn't. He wasn't actually in this room, and she guessed that that meant that he wasn't in the house at all. She frowned. So he'd left. Just like that. Leaving her with only a sleeping Tarrlok as guard. He thought _that _little of her? "Where's—where is he?"

Tarrlok grunted, and she heard the rustling of fabric. He was shifting about, but she couldn't tell in the darkness what exactly he was doing. "If you mean Noatak, then I don't know. He didn't tell me where he was going, for your information. I _fell asleep_—ugh," he groaned, and there was a slap that suggested skin on skin—perhaps he'd put his head in his hands. Then there was more rustling and a hand groped at her arm; she evaded it with ease and sat further back. "Don't try and escape," he warned her. "Just because Noatak isn't here…"

"Oh, don't worry about that," she said sullenly. "I've had enough for one day, thanks."

He sighed. "So you're going to try again tomorrow?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

"What do you care?"

A pause. "Nothing." Another pause, slightly too long. "_Nothing_."

"You're disgusting," she said, angrily, burning with the injustice of being stuck _here_, stuck with _him_, and not daring to leave she didn't want him to make a grab for her. She almost wished he would, so she'd have a reason to beat him to a pulp; but he had his bending, and he'd made it perfectly clear that he was willing to bloodbend her before. That wasn't something she was eager to try again.

Tarrlok groaned, ever so slightly, very softly. "I know," he said. "Oh, believe me, I know… what was it Noatak said? Nothing that you wouldn't do yourself…"

"So that was true," she said quietly. This conversation, she thought, could not have happened anywhere else but in the dark where neither of them could see each other, essentially alone in the desert. The darkness made it unreal, as if it would melt away in the morning. Perhaps she would regret this conversation, she thought, but there was a frankness and an honesty to it that was refreshing after all the deception and hiddenness of their interaction.

"_Yes_," he said, and he practically groaned it. "I know it's repulsive—a man of _my age_, it's wrong—twenty years! I was twenty years old when you were _born_, and Noatak twists it until sometimes it's all that I feel." That noise that she guessed was his head into his hands echoed through the room again. She sat there uncomfortably, mind racing as what to say, _what on earth to say_— "And seeing you and Noatak there in that wood—I—_I_—"

"I don't want to hear this," she interrupted him, getting to her feet. With uncanny accuracy, he seized her arm and pulled her back down. The forcefulness of the motion was at utter odds with his voice, which was small and almost embarrassed.

"I can't trust you not to run away if you go out of this room," he said, "now that you know that Noatak isn't here." She spluttered, and he cut right across any protests that she might have had. "Look, I don't want to make you. You don't want to make me you make you. So… just stay here, all right? You don't have to sleep anywhere near me," he added bitterly, "and if I have a nightmare just… wake me up. You don't have to be nice about it."

"I wouldn't be anyway," she said spitefully. She could barely make out his outline, the slumped and defeated shrug he gave, before she grabbed the threadbare blanket that had been covering him and sank down onto the floor to ignore him.


	5. FIVE

Hee, there's a reference to _Strings_ in here—one of two in this fic so far, I believe—because Lantur is a babe. I think there's a reference to _the Greatest Trophy of the Revolution_ in _Strings_ as well, which is the best, basically. There's give and take in our relationship.

* * *

**FIVE**

* * *

Tarrlok was amazed at how quickly Korra's irregular breathing sank into the deep rhythm of undisturbed sleep. He envied her that, if he was honest. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd had good, unbroken sleep. The nightmares were rather too prevalent. Speaking of nightmares… he rubbed his face absent-mindedly. That was sure to bruise. She had an impressive swing; the power behind that slap…

He watched her rising and falling form uncomfortably, just able to make it out in the gloom, and turned away. This whole situation was rather quickly becoming uncontrollable and he was becoming increasingly sure that Noatak was engineering it to be that way. Thinking, he tossed and turned on the floor in a fitful attempt to relax. The floor was unbearably hard. He was used to generous mattresses on which to sprawl; deep, soft pillows and perhaps a companion to keep the nightmares away… It was a funny thing, but sharing with someone else—preferably someone soft, attractive and feminine—seemed to drive them away.

His eyes had drifted over to Korra, and he gave a quiet snort at that thought. She wasn't at all his type… and that was partially why it was so infuriating and absurd that he was attracted to her. Korra was childish, rough, abrasive, and he liked a smooth stylishness to his women that he knew that she could never, ever even begin to emulate. But still he found his gaze upon her far more often than he would like, wondering about what she'd done with that firebender _boy_, a _boy_ who had no idea how to treat women—individuals, each one, and the search for what would delight each one was something that he'd dedicated a great deal of energy to in the past—wondering how much she _knew_, how experienced she was; if she'd blush at his particular favourites…

It was absurd, he told himself, and still it wouldn't leave him alone. So he swore never to act on any of it! A simple solution, he'd thought, to a complex problem. Leave it in his head, revel in it there all he liked—keep it close to him in the dark of the night when he turned to a different woman with a cool smile and said, "So, you're from the Southern Water Tribe?"—but never show a shred of it in his everyday life.

Well, that had been working right up until the point that he'd been confronted in his office and sent hurtling through the air; furious, he might have admitted, furious that this wild, brash creature didn't match up to what he'd been conjuring up in his mind. And he'd been pushed, but not so far that he'd have to resort to bloodbending, not _really_, but he'd panicked a little bit; he genuinely might have died, she was coming at him so strongly—some part of him rather liked it, but that was to be kept for the bedroom and not actively rearing its head in situations where he was far too mortal and aging against a raging Avatar—and well, he'd made a snap judgement.

_A very bad snap judgement_, he thought moodily, and turned over once more. It was no use. He was never going to drift off with her laying there a mere metre or so away from him, the woman in his dreams interfering with the reality of the confused, angry girl lashing out. He sat up and contemplated her form, the realisation that sleep was not coming any time soon well and truly sinking in. He had made a mistake confiding in her. The Korra in his head would have covertly agreed and proposed some charmingly outlandish plan that he would have refined and smoothed, and together the two of them would run off into the sunset or something equally absurd, and perhaps he might have been able to get her to wear a schoolgirl uniform somewhere along the line…

That was not a good line of thought, and he carefully steered away from it. To his irritation, he was blushing a little, and despite the darkness he pawed at the heat in his cheeks as if it were a physical object that he could tear away. He was pitiful. Truly, he was a pitiful man. Sitting alone in the dark, trying not to get turned on by a girl twenty years his junior, someone who was his captive—_would it really matter_, something disgusting whispered in him—or rather, really his brother's captive—_nobody would have to know_, the voice added knowingly—his _brother_, who he had thought was _dead_—_it could be your dirty little secret_, it continued, and he stifled the urge to block his ears, it wouldn't help—_you know that Noatak wouldn't object… he'd probably encourage you_—and maybe it would have been better if Noatak had stayed dead.

He wouldn't be sitting here wrestling with little insidious thoughts that kept popping up; ones that he couldn't assign to some fault in his mind, because he _knew_ that they were his. They came from him. Revolting thoughts that made him feel dirty, because they made him feel _excited_, and was he Noatak, not to care about any ideals of decency?

The two of them together in that wood was imprinted upon his brain; the hungry expression on Noatak's face, the shock and confusion on Korra's, yes, there was no mystery there as to what had happened, only the details remained. He knew… and the dreadful twinge of jealousy—_that could have been you_—that had cut through him for a moment until he'd gathered his senses to know that Korra was a human being outside of his dreams who deserved to be treated as such, and even if Noatak was his brother this was far, far across the line—_nobody has to know; who would tell?_—and that had prompted him to reach out to her.

For a moment, the line between reality and the darkness inside him had been clear; this was wrong, it could not be allowed to continue, and he had reached out and been rebuffed. That moment of openness had been repaid with harshness, that crack that he had opened had boiling oil poured down it. If he thought about it, he could understand it. He had picked the wrong time. She had been bruised and hurt and he was one of her jailors, one of the ones that she hated; what had he expected?

He stared gloomily down at the murky floor and pushed his hair out of his face with a sigh. He was a fool. There were no two ways about it. Was he a fool that could work up the courage to do the right thing? Probably not…

The front door opened and closed gently, and in walked Noatak. Tarrlok waited carefully for the right register to take, depending on what mood his brother was in; deprived of sight, it was going to be much more difficult to tell, but if he waited to let Noatak speak first… It felt a little sad that he had to tip toe around his brother like this, but the years had not been kind to Noatak. They'd strung him out and made him touchy, changeable and unpredictable, though Tarrlok was improving at guessing.

His brother came to stand in the room, and then everything went obscenely bright. Tarrlok flinched and shielded his eyes, slightly irritated that Noatak hadn't considered it important enough to warn him, and gently reopened them. By lamplight, the place looked even sadder. He couldn't live in a place like this for long; it would bring him unbearably low… "I have some useful amenities," Noatak said, an easy smile curling across his face. He was in an affable, chatty mood. Tarrlok didn't exactly want to chat right now, but this was better than when he went sullen and the whole room was filled with his sulking…

Now that it was light, Noatak couldn't help but to see Korra on the floor—apparently so deeply in sleep that she wasn't woken by the arrival of another person and the sudden light; he envied her that luxury so intensely that it _ached_—and his smile deepened a little and he sank to the ground to sit by Tarrlok. "Good that she came down at last," he said, setting down the lamp carefully on the floor. It was an _oil_ lamp. How behind the times were these people? So unrefined, uncultured… "Didn't want another scene. How did you manage to wile her down here?" Tarrlok looked away from that knowing smile, and examined his grubby fingers (he needed a _bath_, badly). He didn't feel like telling his brother about the nightmares.

"My sharp wit and excellent company," he drawled. "Impossible to resist." Noatak laughed affectionately and gave him a rigorous slap on the back.

"Of course," he said, in a humorously patronising tone. "Well, it's better that she's where we can see her. Gave me a run for my money today… Fortunately, she tends to panic, and then it's not particularly hard to subdue… oh, that reminds me—when did I last block her chi points?" Tarrlok shrugged, not sure whether his brother actually wanted an answer or if he was talking just to hear his own voice. "I'll have to remember to do that in the morning… for now, doesn't she look _peaceful_, sleeping… wild when awake…" He chuckled. "Life won't be boring, that's for sure. If I'm truly honest, I rather like it when she makes a break for it. Keeps things interesting."

"Noatak," Tarrlok began, remembering uncomfortably the strange bluntness of his conversation with Korra—oh, he'd just wanted her to _understand_, just for a moment, that he _knew_ that he was wrong and disgusting, just wanted her to understand that he struggled and he wanted to be a good man but if it wasn't hard as _anything_—and deciding to plough ahead before it nagged away at him and became a sore, "what did happen in the woods?"

Noatak snorted. "Not sure that they were woods, exactly…" He stopped upon catching sight of Tarrlok's expression; it was serious, almost twisted with concentration, and it was not the sort of mood that brooked jokes. He sighed. "I got carried away," he said openly, with a charm that Tarrlok found it hard to really believe. It was too… oily, and Tarrlok knew oily (he had been a politician, after all). "It was the chase, it riled me up, and I don't know if you've noticed"—speaking with heavy irony—"but the Avatar isn't unattractive. Young, and energetic, and that fury, that… appetite, it's intriguing.

"All I did was kiss her, Tarrlok. And I stopped when I realised that she was just angry and afraid, not passionate. It was a… fumble, of sorts. A mistaken fumble." He paused, and gave a knowing look. "Why? Are we jealous?"

"No," Tarrlok snapped, and he knew that he'd said it far too quickly to be plausible. It had been embarrassingly see through; he might as well say it, perhaps that would make Noatak stop holding it over his head. "Yes," he admitted painedly. "A little. You _know_ perfectly well that I'm attracted to her, and that's _all _it is, Noatak; she's young and powerful, and that's… intriguing…" he said, trailing off. He did wonder what would be like, the combination of raw power and that innocence and _oh dear_, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about this at all.

"Nobody has to know out here," Noatak said, and Tarrlok though how unfortunate it was that his darkest thoughts seemed to sound exactly like his brother. "After time, she might come around, after all. I honestly don't intend to be unkind, Tarrlok. I want to build a new life, a new job out here; I want to make a difference to these people's lives, and if I can have a family along the way, then…" Tarrlok wasn't sure that he'd heard that correctly.

Absent-mindedly, he scratched at his nose and looked directly into the lamp. It was making strange lights dance across his vision, but truthfully that wasn't making this that much odder. "A family," he echoed, turning that over to try and make it make sense. "With—the Avatar?" Noatak shrugged.

"Perhaps," he said. "She's already here, she can't leave; why not?" Tarrlok wondered if he should try and debate it, and decided not to touch it with a ten foot pole. "I left when I was little, and I've had time to think about how pitifully lacking our family was; Yakone was an appalling father, and our mother was neglectful. All we had was each other." His brother stared at his hands sullenly, mood changing to moroseness. "Now we have a chance to rebuild our family with the rotten parts cut away, a new chance in a new place. Do you object?"

Tarrlok thought fast. "No," he said. For now, Noatak had to think that he was on board with this… this… Noatak had left _them_, when he was a child, _he_ had left _them_; all this talk of family and rebuilding was all very well… All the same, no matter how wrong Tarrlok knew it was, the idea was seductive—he saw a home, a bright one smelling of cooking and cleanness and happiness, coming home to (oh dear) Korra at the end of the day—but those were his dreams, his ludicrous castles in the sky. She'd never be happy with being a housewife, she was the _Avatar_; and his brother was strangely absent from this vision of home, despite the proposal being certainly for the two of them. The two of them, _sharing_ absurdly.

It would never, ever work, but he wanted it a little even so. Even now, he wanted to cling onto the prospect of the two of them travelling the world like vigilantes, doing _good_. Not quite enough to suggest it to Noatak—there was rather too much of the politician in him, after all—but a nagging, insistent, childish voice that said that it could work, that he was being pessimistic and maybe it was all Korra's fault. Without her, perhaps they could get along. Without an object to fixate on, Noatak could come around and he could coax his brother into rational, healthy behaviour.

It was the same mind-set that he'd held when he was a little boy and his father would fly into those sudden rages, shout at him until he was cowering—_it was just this one thing, and if he could remove that one thing then his father would love him, and his mother would really _look at him_ rather than smiling vacantly at the space where he was supposed to be_—and he was rather tempted to cry. Noatak was his brother; surely the earnest love of a brother could reach to those wounds and heal them.

Tarrlok looked at his hands, those hands that had moved and jerked Korra like a marionette dangling from his strings, and closed them over so that he didn't have to see those lined palms. Somewhere along the line, he had become _old_. It had sneaked up on him, so that one day he was only a tiny boy in his father's and his talented brother's shadows, and then he was a man with duties and responsibilities with the weight of the world crushing down on him, but that boy had never truly grown up… did anyone ever truly grow up into a healthy, functioning adult?

Korra moaned in her sleep and turned over, flopping and jerking mechanically. Tarrlok looked over at her, that face cast into sharp relief by the lamplight, and sighed. "How did we come to this?" he asked, more to himself than anything else, but Noatak reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

"I don't know," he said, and for a moment Noatak spoke honestly with no artifice or cunning or cleverness. Tarrlok clung to that. There was hope. If they could speak like this, then there was _hope_. "Time for bed. Don't want to be tired for our first big day tomorrow…" Tarrlok nodded, gave Korra one last look, and settled down with no intention at all of sleeping. The temptation to crawl over and rest his head by his brother's shoulder, as they had done when they were children and the cold winds howled outside, was overwhelming for a moment.

Tarrlok grieved for the life that he hadn't been allowed to have, and it seemed that it ate away at him more every day. As he turned onto his back and Noatak gently shut out the light of the lamp, his eyes burned. That was not grief. More and more often, it was anger for the pitiful person that he had become.

* * *

His sleep was, of course, fitful; he didn't allow himself to have truly restful sleep in the fear that he'd have more nightmares. There were none for the rest of the night but he woke groggily and painfully in the morning, rubbing at his eyes with considerable irritation and no anticipation at all for the day ahead. They would have to fight Korra every step of the way; in the aftermath of a failed escape attempt she would be sullen and angry and utterly uncooperative.

Also, he was used to plush beds, and these floors were not kind on a body that was beginning to age. He resolved to, at the very least, teach these people to steal adequately so that they could steal him a nice bed. Much more of this and he would be as bad as Korra. Well. Not quite.

He glanced over at her and was surprised to find her still asleep even with Noatak moving about the room and examining it, creaking and poking and cracking and prodding. "Should I wake her?" he asked, and his brother paused for long enough to nod.

"Wake her, and then go see if there's any food for breakfast available." Tarrlok tried to not to balk at the commanding tone—he was just tired, that was it, remember their conversation last night—and stretched instead to relieve some of that aching. A good bath might soak away the tension, though he doubted that this place even had hot water. Ugh, of course Noatak had picked some awful backwater to stay in. If there wasn't any hot water, he was going to be a problem on a daily basis complaining about it. He hadn't brought any cologne or skin care products either… he hadn't planned for eventuality of kidnap well enough to carry his beauty routine kit.

His knees clicked as he got up, and then his ankles as he began walking. All were uncomfortable reminders; that stiffness! Dreadful. Korra was sprawled messily on her back, chin lolling to one side and drooling. Her hair was spread across her face, which was bruising. It hadn't really recovered from the bruises he'd given her back in Republic City, and she had a spectacular array of greens, yellows and purples dotted about, not to mention several cuts. She looked like she'd been beaten to a pulp. And really, he realised gloomily, she had been. Perhaps she just bruised easily, but they had thrown her about non-stop. Well. Noatak had. His injuries had been inflicted without his knowledge, when he'd been asleep, no awareness of what was going on.

He exhaled heavily. Did that make it any better? He was trying to rationalise things too much again. Better to just get this over and done with; he reached out to her and gave her a short, sharp jerk of the shoulder. She jerked awake rather explosively, lashing out with one arm—very quickly, nearly getting him in the face—and glared at him… annoyed, apparently. Huh.

"_What_?" she snapped, and he remained cool. Well, this wasn't so much sullen as… irritated. He hadn't been expecting open irritation.

"Time to wake up," he settled for saying, and she propped herself up onto her elbows, which accentuated her breasts—no, that was not an appropriate line of thought, not this _early_ in any case—and glared at him. "Unless you don't want breakfast," he added vindictively. He was a little glad that she was still a spitfire. He'd take bickering if it meant that she was still talking to him; there was a selfish desire in him to have her react and spar with him, even if it was antagonistic. She didn't reply, and he continued, "I'll take that as a yes to breakfast, then."

Korra rolled wildly up to sitting, her legs tucked underneath her, and blinked the sleep from her eyes. "I want food, yes," she said pugnaciously. "Shame that you have to touch it, but I'm not going to starve just because you're gross." There was a strangled noise from Noatak, and Tarrlok realised to his displeasure that his brother had laughed.

"Cutting," Noatak said, schooling his expression into deadpan. "Perhaps we should let you starve if you're going to be so rude." Korra crossed her arms and hunched over, looking sulky for the first time.

"Not rude," she muttered. "Just true."

"_Well_," Tarrlok said, not sure what to say that without considerably losing face, "we'll see." He heard her repeat it quietly in a stupid voice, venting her frustration, shrugged at Noatak and left to go get some food. He was hungry, actually; his stomach rumbled as he stepped through the wreckage of a house out into harsh sunlight. Heading for the same place that he'd discovered yesterday on a reconnaissance tour, he nodded to several people he'd met then. These people weren't too bad, he had to admit. A little rough around the edges, certainly not the paragons that you saw in those awful adverts to get you to donate to charity, but reasonable folk. Not refined, but not… criminal, not _rude_.

Stepping into the canteen, he was greeted cheerfully by Xue, a woman who seemed to be in charge of a group of people who took care of food. "You're up late," she said, giving him a wink—he shifted uncomfortably; she was being flirtatious and he knew that it was just the way she was, nothing special about him, but right now with his conflicted thoughts he couldn't handle flirtation—"but I'm sure that I can rustle up something for you. For three, again? Big eaters? We got a lot of those here, don't worry, we can cater to big eaters no problem." She called to one young man, lurking about looking bored, and he disappeared off into what served as their kitchen. "Settled in all right?" she asked, with a knowing look, and he shrugged. "You're city people, I can tell; not what you're used to?"

"Not quite," he replied diplomatically, and she laughed.

"Sometimes you forget," she said dreamily. "When you grow up with it, it's just there. Takes other people, sometimes, to show you how shit everything is." Tarrlok wondered for a second if she knew, but that was irrational and ridiculous. There was no way that she could know. "But we do fine, we do as we can. You'll just miss them showers, I'm sure, but folks out here are good folks."

The young man remerged with a box, smelling glorious, and Tarrlok breathed deep. "I'm very attached to my showers," he said, struggling with what to say. It was all very well when he knew what role he was playing—recent immigrant down on his luck needing just one chance, smooth politician, influential speaker—but without that safety net he wasn't really sure who he was. Awkward, uncomfortable and unhappy, maybe. Made up of those three feelings. "Didn't really have them in the North Pole, though," he added, when she didn't say anything else. "I grew up there, as a boy. We weren't particularly well off, either…"

"Must be a bit hard to come back to that, then."

He shrugged. "A little," he said simply. "It's not much like it was when I was a child any more."

Xue smiled gently at him. "Go and eat before it gets cold," she said. "Don't you waste our cooking. Love and effort goes into that. Some food as well, but you can't have everything." He didn't grin or laugh, but she wasn't snubbed; she waved goodbye to him as he ambled back out, thoughts chasing each other around his head.

It seemed that he'd never get away from his childhood.

* * *

Breakfast was utterly silent. Not even Tarrlok tried to make conversation; he'd seemed a lot more subdued since their… conversation, last night. It was weird to discover that he thought he was wrong and disgusting as well. It had thrown Korra a little. She'd been expecting to hear him try and justify everything, show her the world through his eyes and prove that she was wrong, but he'd just sat there and looked small and childlike and upset, and when she wasn't feeling down about the failed escape attempt, she almost felt guilty about it.

That was ridiculous, though, because she had nothing to feel guilty about. Tarrlok was the one who'd chosen to come along; he was the one who'd suggested it, if she remembered correctly. This was all his fault, she thought, tearing into a bit of stale bread. The food here was gross, but she was hungry and she needed to keep her strength up.

It was getting difficult to sort out what she felt about Tarrlok, though, much to her dismay and worry. Noatak was a bit easier; he was a douchebag, he was a bender and a hypocrite and an awful human being all round. But… if she felt conflicted about Tarrlok because of how his father had treated him—it had clearly had a big impact on him—then wasn't she the hypocrite if she refused to acknowledge that it had affected Noatak as well? She still didn't know what had really happened in their past. She knew that they were brothers, Yakone's sons, both master bloodbenders, and that Tarrlok had thought that Noatak was dead.

She mused into her cold eggs, spooning them into her mouth and trying not to think about how unpleasant they tasted and felt in her mouth. Perhaps it would be a good idea to find out about their past. It would help her to understand who they were, and that would help her to escape. No more hair-brained wild fleeing. She _was_ going to plan her next escape. In an ideal world, she could bring the both of them back to Republic City to face justice, but she didn't think that was going to be possible… She sighed quietly. They'd probably get away with this, then. But the most important part was getting home; war had been declared several days ago now, and Republic City must be in uproar. Did they know that she was gone?

Somebody knocked the door, and Korra dropped a spoonful of eggs onto the floor as her arm jerked involuntarily. Mournfully, disgusted, she stared at the dusty pile and debated picking them up. They looked revolting. She was fairly sure that she wanted to go nowhere near them, but if she left them on the floor they'd probably start to smell, and this living space didn't need to be any grosser than it already was… She was avoiding thinking about things that were really important. There were major barriers, and she had no idea how to overcome them, she _needed_ to think about the important things. Eggs… eggs were not a priority.

Noatak moved when nobody else did, and brushed past with a breezy, disdainful, "Tidy them up." She glared at him, resolving to certainly not do anything now. The damn eggs could stay on the floor for all she cared. She wasn't going to tidy anything when it was the fault of whoever was at the door. So she needed to get their backstory from one of them… Tarrlok would probably be easier, but he was massively creeping her out at the moment, so she wasn't sure that she was at all comfortable playing with that revulsion and attraction he was clearly wrestling with. Noatak could be even worse, though, but he was open about his ambitions of getting them to be a family, so she might be able to play off that. Understanding about his family to construct a new one, maybe… but surely he'd see through that, it would be far too transparent after all her anger and escaping. Any plan would probably require waiting and patience, and she just didn't have the _time_ to be patient. The Spirit World was off limits, she was churned up and anxious with nobody to help, there was no chance of getting into the Avatar State…

"Good morning," came the cheerful voice of Liu, after hideous creaking from the door. "You're probably going to need help fixing this place up; just ask if you need anything."

"I'll be sure to," Noatak said smoothly, affably—Korra shuddered to hear that tone, and she was sure that Tarrlok noticed—and the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. "Do you want me to start training people today? I expect that's why you're here. We're just having breakfast, but we are essentially finished, if now is a good time." Liu laughed.

"Don't let me interrupt your food," he said. "We know how important food is round here. But if you are finished then we're gathering a group together for you by the canteen. We was going to just see how many people were interested, but I thought that if you were free it might be best to start soon as possible." Korra stared down, unfocused, at the eggs. _We know how important food is round here_, and she'd just dropped some in the dirt… Surely one spoonful didn't matter, but the people here all had a stretched, starved look to them… Ugh, it wasn't her problem, she was going to try and leave here as soon as possible anyway.

"I'll go with you now," Noatak said. He poked his head around the corner, his expression disturbingly cheery, and looked to Tarrlok. "Whenever you're finished, come along with… Kanna"—he'd nearly forgotten her new name, although so had she, to be honest—"you need to get out of the house." Tarrlok murmured something non-committal and Noatak nodded. "See you in a moment, then," he called, disappearing off. Korra got to her feet right away. If there was a choice between being stuck in a dusty, decrepit house with Tarrlok and a pile of congealing eggs and watching a group of people ineffectually attack each other possibly whilst falling over, she was opting for the latter.

"Where are you going?" Tarrlok asked. He was trying to put on the same smooth front as his brother, but all she was hearing was a weird sort of choking in his voice, a strange hitch. He was still all upset, then. Boohoo for him. She didn't say anything, heading for the door, and he cursed and lunged after her. "I said, where are you going?" he repeated. She noticed scornfully that he was panting a little at the rapid rise.

"Out," she said shortly. "Following him," she added as he made a grab for her arm. "Don't touch me." He exhaled forcefully, raked his hair back from his forehead.

"Wait for a moment," he muttered, distracted, running his fingers through his hair—_really? _His first thought was _really_ his hair?—as she moved on inexorably. "Don't make me stop you," he called after her, sounding exasperated and considerably irritated. Somebody had woken up on the wrong side of the bed…

"What are you going to do?" she called back, feeling rebellious and annoyed, knowing that she could push her luck further with Tarrlok than Noatak.

He crossed his arms, stopping fussing over his hair for the moment, and looked tired. "Remember the bloodbending?" he inquired. "I'm not going to be lenient with you any more. If you're trouble, you get bloodbent, and don't think that I'll hesitate. I'm not a bleeding heart, Avatar. We're isolated here. Nobody—" He cut himself off, and she looked at him, curious about what he had been about to say.

"Nobody what?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "_Nothing_. Nobody has to—nothing." He made one more brush at his hair, and growled impatiently. "Never mind," he muttered, much more to himself than her, and stormed ahead. "Come on!" She followed, at a leisurely pace to show that she didn't tell what her to do, and he made an ugly twist of the hand; her legs jerked forward abruptly. "Any time today," he said, sounding nearly tearful, and Korra hurried a little. Any indignation at conforming to his orders was lost in total confusion. What on earth was going on?

Where Noatak was talking to the people of this town was audible from their house; this whole place wasn't big, and Korra saw as they turned the corner that half the town seemed to have turned out. Children lurked on the outskirts of the crowd, hanging off buildings and perched on drunkenly staggered structures that looked as if they might fall at any moment. Some that looked like they were still children were _in_ the crowd. Noatak stood off to one side, conversing intently with Chen and Liu. He noticed them approach, and said something short to the two men, who nodded and moved off. Chen stood in front of the people, hands fiddling nervously in front of him. Liu stood by a few men and women sat down by a piece of paper, and despite herself Korra found curiosity growing.

"EVERYONE," Chen roared, and it seemed utterly incongruous that that voice could come out of that tiny, reedy man, "QUIET DOWN! QUIET DOWN THERE. WE'RE"—he stopped to cough—"we're making a start, quiet down now, or you'll be asked to leave!" Tarrlok guided Korra over to where Liu stood, and she threw herself moodily into a chair. He stood beside Liu; the two men exchanged cordial but cool nods; most attention was on Chen or Noatak. "We have a newcomer, as most of you will have heard, I'm sure. He's offered to give lessons! Lessons on how to fight, so that we can improve our lives here. I ask that you give him your time, and decide whether you want those lessons. Sign up for the register"—he gestured to Liu, and Korra felt curious eyes on her, slumped darkly in that chair—"with Liu. If you can't write, don't worry, they can. Tu Zin, I give you… Noatak." They were silent as Noatak stepped forwards, no ingratiating smile this time but a serious look instead. He stood there how he had back in Republic City, with both hands behind his back in a commanding stance.

He seemed to exude power, it was undeniable. "People of Tu Zin," he began, and it was short and terse, not his usual lofty tones which he used for speeches, "I am here to teach you if you want to be taught. How to fight not just non-benders but benders on your own terms, and win. How to be quiet and stealthy and quick. I will teach you how to take what this world did not give you. I will accept people of any ability, any person willing. All I ask is that you be truly ready to work if you sign up."

Silence descended once more, and the crowd thought on it. Korra knew, resentfully, that Noatak was an infinitely better speaker than she ever would be. He knew which register to take when addressing different people; he took different tones and modes of speech to fit his audience, and whatever he said it sounded _right_, it sounded good. He sounded honest and genuine here, and she was fairly sure that he'd changed his accent to a little more working class, a little less educated… No wonder people had joined his cause. He knew just which buttons to push…

It frightened her, if she was honest. Looking at Tarrlok, she saw that his expression was, for the first time in a while, simply polite and clear. He didn't look at all troubled—perhaps a little proud; there was a hint of a smile there—as if all that conflict had just melted away. She didn't understand either of them.

Noatak was speaking again, and with some considerable effort, she made herself listen again. _Know your enemy_… "I'll give a demonstration of what I intend today," he said, adding a slightly humorous tone, "but this is the first time, so forgive me if it's a little chaotic." There was a ripple of reluctant laughter, and then he was chivvying the troops. Some of them were over-keen, and some immensely reluctant, so the overall effect was extremely odd. They weren't at all even, and Korra saw the beginning of a crack in Noatak's expression. _Not quite as inspirational as you thought it would be_, she thought smugly, crossing her arms and relaxing back in her chair. It was _hot_ here, and her clothes were Water Tribe. If she was going to be out here for long, she'd boil… She slipped off the robe, and dumped it on the floor next to her. Tarrlok watched, expression unreadable, and went to Noatak along with Liu.

The three of them together were able to organise—after a long, tedious, time—the unruly crowd into relatively neat lines. Altogether, there might have been thirty or so there, and more watching from the side-lines; it was turning into a community event. And the community didn't look quite as she had expected… What had she expected? Well, not this. These people did look starved, not just for food but for action; the hopeful and determined faces looking up at Noatak were not… criminal, or evil, or dastardly, they were simply human. Korra sunk further in her chair, irritated but unable to pin down what she was annoyed at.

They were clumsy, though, and rather pathetic. Korra sighed for her bending, and flexed her hands, imagining leaping into the midst of those clowns. She could beat all of them at once, potentially without even trying, and it was painful to see them get to move about freely when she was pinned down. Noatak acquired a half-broken megaphone from one of the children, who had run up to him, giggled, and run right away again. It meant that more people were paying attention now, though some still looked bored and unwilling. Korra felt another twinge, this time of indignation; they were _lucky_ to have Noatak as a teacher. Korra might not like him, but she could at least admit that he was skilled, with or without bending.

Noatak started from the very beginning, and Korra watched with considerable scorn as he taught them to stand right, with a strong base. Some people couldn't even manage that, and they wobbled; one man fell over, eliciting a startled laugh from her. She got looks for that, but she didn't care. They were all rubbish. They had no idea that the _Avatar_ was sitting right there, watching them stumble about and wobble, things that she'd learned at the age of five…

He split them into three groups, and sent Tarrlok to one. To her surprise, he beckoned to her after that; she looked about, knowing that it must be her that he was pointing at—but why? What was he doing?—and she sloped over grouchily. "This is Kanna," he told one group of about ten; some of them waved at her, but one was the man that she'd laughed at, and he didn't look at all happy. "She'll be your instructor."

"I will?" Korra said, dismayed. It was obscenely hot out here, one of them already actively disliked her, and they were like _children_, but she'd rather that they were because most of them were middle aged, which meant that they'd be rigid and unmalleable, and annoyed that they were taking orders from someone half their age who knew a lot more than they did. This was an awful idea.

"You will," Noatak said firmly.

"Great," she said glumly. "What am I doing?" Her group did not look enthused. Even the most cheerful were wavering. This was an _awful_, awful idea.

"Teaching them a steady stance—like earthbending. We're beginning from basics."

"You don't say," she muttered, and he gave a look; they were in public, so it wasn't truly threatening, but it did make her shiver. "All right, all right," she said, holding up her hands in surrender and turning to her… troops. They stared back at her, reverting to those sullen, suspicious looks that she'd seen on a lot of faces as they'd walked in for the first time. That hope was gone, and she felt... a little guilty about that. Being in such a hopeless situation, it was… well, ugh, maybe she should just try and see what happened. Noatak walked off.

"Okay," she said, more brightly. "Sorry about that. I'm not used to this heat. Southern Water Tribe and all." Nobody laughed. Nobody even cracked a smile. She could see Tarrlok smirk at her out of the corner of her eyes, and a sudden surge of determination coursed through her. Screw those guys. She was going to be _really good instructor_. It wasn't these people's fault that Noatak was a douchebag and Tarrlok a sleazy arse. They'd come along hoping for something better than this rubbish dump, and she could at least _try_. She didn't think that Katara would be very impressed with her attitude, and that spurred her on a little. At the very least, this was a distraction, a way to practice and pass the hours.

"We're going to start with teaching you a strong stance, like Noatak said. That means that it's harder for your opponent to knock you over. If it seems like baby stuff, it is. It's annoying, but the basics are kind of the most important," she said slowly, trying to remember what she'd been told as a child. "Without the basics, your very base is unstable and it's easy to beat you. It's a mistake a lot of fighters make." She knew that Noatak had just glanced at her. She sped up a little. "So what I'm say is basically that it's important," she added, really looking at them for the first time. Mainly men—seven to three ratio—and all skinnier than she was, most about her height or smaller. Life had not been kind to them…

She stamped on the earth, feet parallel, and grinned up at them. Nobody looked impressed. "It looks easy, but it's easy to forget. Try it yourself." The man that she had laughed at gave a long suffering sigh, a glance at his friend, and slouched into a poor impression of her stance. "You're not doing it right," she said, and at his frustrated, disappointed expression became aware that that wasn't the most scholarly, kind way to speak. Katara had gently encouraged her, pointed out the good things in what she was doing, and then corrected the bad… perhaps she could try that. "You made a good start," she said diplomatically, trying to be enthusiastic, "but don't hunch over like that—um"—she pressed a hand into his back, straightening it up, and he looked at her with immense distrust but allowed her to touch him—"like that, yeah. If you're all hunched over—it's not a good thing. Widen your feet a little. Little more. Good. Now straighten them, so they're parallel… and that's good."

He looked up at her, and wobbled a little. "That's okay, it's okay to wobble. Your muscles probably aren't very strong," she said, anxious to get that suspicious, drawn expression off his face. Maybe it was just that she didn't like it when people didn't like her, and he was so _hostile_, so _angry_. "So you need to build them up. Um, everyone else should try too," she added, aware that the rest of the group was still standing there. Accordingly, the more enthusiastic rocketed into the stance—one rocked right over, to a hoot of amused but not unkind laughter, and helped back up by a compatriot—and the less enthusiastic slouched into it. Korra moved among them, poking them into shape and challenging them to see how long they could stand there.

By the time Noatak came back over she had momentarily forgotten him; she had managed to cut loose and act _herself_ for a while. That meant losing her temper with the resolutely annoying man, joking along with a few others who were hungry for achievement, hungry for glory and better lives, and having some _fun_ for the first time in ages. The people weren't quite as pathetic as she'd expected, and that thought preyed uncomfortably on her mind. She'd been so… contemptuous, so unpleasant about them, and she hadn't said it aloud but it still… mattered, she'd still been kind of a jerk. They were getting taken advantage of by Noatak as well…

"How's it going over here?" he said smoothly, draping an arm around her shoulders. She kept herself still and didn't jump, but her expression curdled.

"Fine," she said shortly, and he pulled her closer.

"I saw! You're doing very well." There was a heavy dose of patronising in there, and she resented it. She was a fully capable fighter, with or without her bending, and he knew it. Treating her like a child got nobody anywhere. "Time to stop for the moment, though. Thanks for the effort, everyone, and if you want more lessons then sign up, we'll be working off the register in the future." With murmurs that might or might not have been _thanks_ or _goodbyes_, the people dispersed. Korra was grudgingly pleased to see that all but one of her team went to go sign up—that one man that she'd laughed at was already stomping off. She felt oddly embarrassed and disappointed about him.

"Time for a break," he murmured, right in her ear, and she did jump that time.

"Stop it," she hissed.

"Stop what?" he asked, getting even closer to her ear. His breath was hot on her skin, and it was uncomfortable and weird and gross. "You _did _do well today. I'm very impressed." She went rigid, and he sighed. "Are you genuinely unhappy with this? You can't stand it?"

"Yes," she said shortly, crossing her arms and jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. He chuckled, and it went right through her, tingling oddly. There was a strange fizzing sensation in her stomach that she wasn't sure that she'd felt before, not like that anyway, and she didn't like it. If it was what she thought it was…no, that didn't bear thinking about, it was ridiculous. She glanced up at him, unable to help herself, and her eyes travelled along his jaw line painedly. _Oh god._

"All right," he said peaceably, and to her surprise he withdrew his arm and dropped it to his side. She stopped altogether, staring ahead, and he looked back to her from where he had walked on. "Come on. Korra, _come on_." It couldn't be. That uncomfortable, aware feeling on her skin when he looked at her couldn't be. Korra swallowed hard, and wiped her hands on her dress.

It was ridiculous to even think about, but it seemed to be so, without any bidding or control on her behalf.


	6. SIX

And now I can bump this fic up to an M rating, especially because of what's coming next chapter...

* * *

**SIX**

* * *

Korra walked after him, trying to think it through coolly. It was muddling her thoughts, though, because she kept _looking_ at him, and then feeling embarrassed and looking away and her thoughts were entirely occupied by the vicious cycle. She followed him aimlessly and tried to just put it out of her head. It was ridiculous. Surely not. He was strong, and well-muscled, and those clothes fit well and his face was classic Water Tribe ideal, but she didn't even _like _him. She didn't, right?

She felt a bit better about her reaction of overwhelming revulsion and annoyance. Okay. So she still didn't like him at all. (He wasn't going towards their house… where on earth were they heading to?) She still hated him. That much was clear. So why was this… _this_ bubbling up in her stomach—_bad food_, something in her suggested hopefully, but really it hadn't been that bad, just meagre, no such luck—as if… as if… It wasn't anything like what she felt about Mako, she decided strongly. It wasn't liking. It was just a strange, morbid fascination.

Noatak stopped at Chen's house, and ushered her inside. His hand brushed her arm, and she shuddered, moving forwards and away from him decidedly. He gave her a curious look but, blessedly, said nothing about it. Chen sat in the middle of the room, examining some papers—perhaps the registry for the lessons—and looked up eagerly as they approached. "Hello," he said, sounding much more buoyant than he had before. "We've had a remarkable turn out, you've really got the people going; some of them complained that the lessons were for children, but most of them seem to be spellbound, they're really quite enthusiastic about this. I've had some come to me to sign up that didn't even turn up at the taster session… quite remarkable, really got them going," he repeated to himself more quietly, turning over the sheets in his hands once more to look at all the names. There were an awful lot of them, and Korra wondered whether she would be asked to teach once more. Leaning against the wall, lovely and cool, she mused whether it would be unpleasant or not.

They weren't so bad, these people. Kind of boring and not very… cultured but, much to her reluctance, sort of okay. Not the hive of scum and wretched villainy that she had expected from bandits. Plus, it meant that even while in captivity, she was fulfilling her Avatar duties. Helping people. It was what she did. Helping bandits she wasn't so sure about, but she was definitely helping _people_. Bandits were people too. Or something.

"Good," Noatak said, a smile sitting strangely on his face. "There was a somewhat larger turn out than I had expected; I'll probably need my brother and our companion to teach as well, if that's all right." Chen nodded, spouted pleasantries, and Noatak waited until it had been going on for some time to interrupt. "Will we have lessons daily? I need to build up these people; fitness requires usually hours of hard work, but at least daily sessions." Korra wondered guiltily the last time that she'd truly trained. She'd lost track of that in all the difficulty and upheaval. That was something that she could rectify soon.

"Daily sounds all right," Chen said, after a moment of deliberation, "but not everyone will be able to make every session, I expect." Noatak frowned a little, and crossed his arms.

"If people miss sessions, then they'll need to make them up. I'm not going to be an easy taskmaster, but it will pan out in the end, I assure you."

"That's fine, that's fine. I'm sure that people will understand. It's probably best to have the sessions first thing in the morning, when it's cooler. I think you'll agree?" Noatak nodded. "So, daily, at sun rise? We don't all go by clocks here, but dawn should be an acceptable line to draw. Some won't like it much, but they don't have to come… well, I think that's all, then," he said with a sunny smile, and Noatak nodded once more, leaning forward to have a hearty handshake. "Thank you," Chen added, with minimal authenticity.

"Not at all," Noatak replied, and beckoned to her. They left again, Korra glad that it had been short; she didn't like Chen much. She found him mousy and insincere. Noatak didn't seem to care. "Well, I suppose we're retiring for the day," he said, more to himself than her, setting off once more in the direction of what she thought was to their house. She dawdled behind, dragging her feet, but never so far behind that he would have to stop for her. Locked back up in the house again. It wasn't a pleasant prospect. She'd never thought that she'd enjoy spending time with those bumpkins, but, well… had she ever expected to be where she was?

Where was Tarrlok, though? She hadn't seen him in a while, since Noatak had looped his arm around her shoulders—she swallowed, fingers tapping against her side—and dragged her off. She flexed her muscles, wondering whether she would be allowed to practice; people could see, after all, and she wasn't sure how much Noatak wanted the townies to know… Actually, when had he last blocked her chi points? She wasn't sure if she could remember. She flexed her muscles again, rolling her shoulders, and hoped that Noatak wouldn't remember to block her again. Getting her bending back would be a blow, an excellent blow to their power over her.

Noatak pushed open the front door, which creaked hideously, and stepped inside. Tarrlok was in the main room, sanding down the walls. She blinked to see him there, working menially, and walked into the hallway. Noatak shut the door over her head, and ambled in to see his brother. "What are you doing?" he asked, as curious as she was, apparently, picking up one of the random pile of instruments in the middle of the room. There were rollers, battered and broken but still apparently functional, a half empty tub of paint and something that smelled acidic and awful even from a distance.

"I could not stand this horrible, derelict, lump of an excuse of a building," Tarrlok panted, and Korra knew that he was being genuine from those horribly gritted teeth, the nakedly open expression screwed up tightly, and the way he'd piled his hair up out of his face into—horror of horrors, with minimal care—a messy bun. "So I asked for some supplies. They gave them to me. First, we take away all the rot, and then repair holes, strengthen the wall, and then sweep out all the shit and tidy it up. You are both helping."

"I am not," Korra said indignantly, and he threw a bit of sandpaper at her. "I am _not_ doing this, it's stupid and I don't want to. I don't want to be here, you do, you do it!" Noatak gave her a _look_, and she chucked the sandpaper over her shoulder rebelliously. "I don't _want to_," she heard herself say, like a petulant child, and made herself not shudder at him looking directly at her.

Noatak was already at the walls, and he pulled her over by the arm, picking up the sandpaper and placing it firmly in her hand. "'Don't want to' is not an adequate excuse," he said, softly, dangerously, and for a moment she let that expression slip, the confusion and tangledness and revulsion and draw to him that she was feeling. Tarrlok snorted, and she turned defensively to him. He was looking at her with considerable amusement and far too much knowing.

"What?" she demanded, much more high pitched than she had meant to be, and he turned away again with a small, dark chuckle.

"Just get on with it," Noatak said, patient again. "I hope you've noticed that I haven't blocked your chi points in a while; I meant to this morning, but after seeing you teach those people, you've restored a little of my faith in you." She resisted the urge to snort. He had faith in her? That was news to her. "We'll need to teach them how to face benders; they have earthbenders, they'll _never_ face an airbender, and you can be a waterbender if you're good. I want to trust in you, Korra." Her name was cool and harsh in his mouth, and she refused to look at him. "So if you prove to behave in the next few days, then I will allow you to regain your bending. Does that sound acceptable?" Korra knew that that wasn't designed to provoke a response. She was not supposed to answer. "I hope it does. You know, Korra, that I don't truly want you to be a prisoner. One day, perhaps, you will want to stay…"

She wasn't touching that with a ten foot long pole. She would _never_ want to stay with them.

* * *

Noatak took her plate, and called over his shoulder that he would be going to return them and check in on Liu on the way to co-ordinate tomorrow. Tarrlok grunted in reply, and Korra remained silent. Alone again with Tarrlok. The air seemed oddly charged; she was not at all comfortable—that look from earlier replaying in her head, saying _I know, I _know—staying with him. Quietly, as if he wouldn't notice if she was quiet enough, she got to her feet and began trudging towards the stairs.

"Oh, no," Tarrlok said, leaning back on the floor and yawning. "You're not going up there." She scowled at him.

"Going to bloodbend me again, then?"

That seemed to strike him like a blow, despite the seemingly casual way in which he'd twisted that hand and jerked her about that morning, and she wondered what on earth went on in his head. "No," he said, shortly, and she marvelled at how he was almost indignant at her. "I won't. Not unless you make me. Don't make me." All this talk, all the time, of 'making him' do things, as if the blame was all on her. He decided to do things; she wasn't responsible for them, she thought scornfully.

"I don't make you," she said grumpily, settling back down in the main room as far away from him as she could manage. "You do your own things, it's not me, don't be stupid." He looked stung.

"I wouldn't do those things if you didn't push me to them."

"Don't put your mistakes on me," she sniped, crossing her arms around her knees and resting her head on her knees. "Just because you're stupid."

"Stop calling me stupid."

"Stupid."

"You are _such_ a child."

"Stop talking to me, then."

"_Fine_." They subsided for a moment, neither talking, but the silence was uneven and uncomfortable, and she was sure that he was going to break it any moment now. Indeed, he shifted awkwardly on the floor, almost wriggling, and sighed again. Then his expression took on a more darkly amused cast; for a moment, he looked a bit like Noatak. "I saw how you looked at him earlier, though."

"Who?" Korra asked, her voice sounding plastic and unreal even to her. It was not at all convincing.

He gave that look again, that filthy knowing look that crawled inside her and made her feel dirty. "You know who. You know perfectly well who I mean. _Noatak_, of all people. Now you know how I feel." Against Tarrlok, that uncertainty sank and anger rose, making everything clearer and easier. She put her hands on her hips and glared ferociously at him, everything going gloriously simple.

"I don't feel anything," she said resolutely. He laughed, grating on her nerves awfully.

"Of course you don't," he replied viciously, leaning back against the wall and laughing again. "That's why it's such an unthinkable thing; you don't like him, maybe even hate him, but now you can't stop watching the way he moves and wondering—"

"I don't wonder," she interrupted proudly, knowing that was true. She'd watched, sure, but that was all.

"That'll come soon enough. Although, you're only a girl, do you _have_ anything to wonder about? Not that it matters…"

"That's how you feel about me," she said after a moment of long hesitation, her mind finally catching up with her mouth and sorting through what he'd said. "You—you wonder? Gross!" she said, horrified. "Gross! About me—you? Oh, oh, _ew—_you haven't, ah, you haven't—" She hadn't had much opportunity for fantasising, not really, but Mako usually featured in them, often without a shirt—once he'd been repairing a Satomobile and he'd been all oily, she'd been so _embarrassed_ to look at him the next day—but the thought of Tarrlok thinking that way about her, that old man, it was gross and weird.

"Your enthusiasm thrills me," he drawled. Then he looked away, suddenly odd and awkward, and stared down at the floor. "Don't worry about it. It's just an image in my head, it's not really you."

"Well," she spluttered, wanting to say something cutting and failing to find the words, "that's—well—good." She glanced up to find his eyes on her, strangely vulnerable and hard and distrustful, and he looked like a kicked puppy. This was so… _annoying_, so weird that he could say those things that she found so frightening and strange and then she'd see him make a face like that, the boy he must have been shining through. With a brother like Noatak—though perhaps Noatak hadn't been that way as a child; something had happened to make Tarrlok think that he was _dead_—and a father like Yakone, what chance had he had… but that didn't excuse how he acted now, she was sure, but the longer she spent with them the more confusing it became…

Tarrlok's head thudded against the wall, and she looked up at him again suddenly; he had just leaned back, eyes wide open to the ceiling, and he was tired, ever so tired. "Noatak wants us to be one happy family," he said quietly. "He wants… I don't know, really, truly, but… some part of me wants that." He turned to her, almost desperate, too open and brilliant for her to look at. "Can't you understand that? You grew up with a loving family, loved and cared for. Can't you _understand_?" She wished that she could close her ears as well as her eyes.

It felt skeevy and… unpleasant to choose to do this now, but Korra had to think of the future, her duties as the Avatar and her friends. "What happened with you and Noatak?" she heard herself say, and it was done, it was out there. "When you were kids—when you were little, what happened?"

He was silent, but she'd caught him at a moment when he was truly vulnerable—she felt a brief moment of guilt, but _he'd_ kidnapped her, it had been _his_ doing—and he opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, she wasn't sure that she wanted to know. The door was opened, however, and she had to deal with whatever came out of it. Yakone had been an awful father, much as she had expected, and he'd made his sons train, turned them on each other and put Tarrlok and Noatak through physical and mental torture; Noatak had snapped one day and run off into a storm, and Tarrlok had believed that he was dead for years , decades afterwards. The version that Tarrlok told was a lot longer with a lot more stumbling, hesitation and outright pauses that were minutes long.

Korra didn't interrupt, shy now that he was actually talking about it and showing himself to be a real human being with an awful past. When he finished, she looked at him, just looked at him, and he caught her eyes. For a moment, something real was there; a genuine spark went across the room. She turned right away, absolutely horrified, and stared at the wall, her heart beating dreadfully fast. She still hated him. He had backed her into a corner, bloodbent and kidnapped her. But it was getting harder as he distanced himself more from that slimy politician, which seemed to have been a front, but she knew that he was no white knight, no tragic, hurt figure whose crimes could all be excused by his past… it was more difficult than that; he'd made a ton of bad decisions under his own steam in the present, ones that had really hurt her. And he didn't seem to have enough strength to detach himself from Noatak.

Even when he struggled with the upset, talking of the day when Noatak left, Tarrlok spoke with some love. He was clinging to his brother; or at least, he was clinging to the brother that he had known when he was little. Despite some disillusionment as to the present day Noatak, he still clung desperately on, and Korra wasn't sure that she could split them apart. If she wanted to get out of here, it would be her best bet to play on that weakness. She would have to be… civil to Tarrlok to get him to believe her.

It didn't sit easy with her to be planning to use him, to lie to him; so many people had lied to him and twisted him from childhood to adulthood, but he already had an unhealthy dependency on her, creepy thoughts about her. She was already inside his head. All she had to do was crack that wide open, and get him to _see_ that Noatak was no good.

"That's… horrible," she said eventually, her voice sounding as if it was coming from far away, hoarse and croaking. "That's awful, that he'd do that to a _child_—to you and… him…"

"Do you understand?" Tarrlok said, openly pleading.

Korra swallowed. _No_, she wanted to say, _I don't_. _Not how you can be so pathetic and sad and disgusting and frightening all at the same time. Not how I don't even remotely like you but sometimes there's something there that—I don't know, and I don't like it._

"Yes," she said, meeting his eyes squarely and praying that they wouldn't betray her. Almost shyly, he walked over, haltingly, nearly turning back at one point. His hands ran up her shoulders—she shivered, strangely, some tension thrilling through her—and up her neck—she forgot how to breathe for a second, expecting those hands to tighten around her throat or something similarly awful—and over her face, and he looked at her questioningly, childishly, afraid.

"Yes?" he asked, and she knew what he meant.

"Yes," she repeated before she could think better of it, and he lowered his head to kiss her. If she thought about it mechanically, it wasn't that bad. That one time that she'd fumbled with Mako, neither of them had known what they were doing; she'd just kissed him, and she'd actually nearly hit his nose in a moment of horror, but this… Tarrlok knew what he was doing, she told herself, that was the only difference. He was a lot older with a lot more practice. She was sure that explained the second thrill that ran through her as one hand of his explored up the small of her back, making her shiver, the other that rested on her hip, the callused thumb on her bare skin—he had _technique_. (She was doing this to get away, if it went any further she was shoving him across the room, that was definite. Kissing wasn't so bad, she'd kissed Mako, but any more was too much and she was a little afraid of this going too far when all she wanted was his trust.)

Belatedly, she realised that she should probably do something as well, and she fumbled, embarrassed, trying to imagine that it was Mako. Tarrlok chuckled, and she flushed red, feeling humiliation flush through her. "Don't worry," he murmured, surfacing for air. "I'll lead…" That sent another thrill though her, and she swallowed dryly. He kissed her again, and his tongue was against her lips; knowing at least what this was, she opened them. Tarrlok in her mouth, inside her mouth, was the oddest feeling; she felt hot all over, but especially down—it felt odd. Not entirely unpleasant, she was admitting—it was _technique. _Up and down the small of her back again—"There," she said, forgetting for a moment; the word garbled and he laughed again, this was half pure awkward and half kind of she wasn't thinking about that and half getting what she wanted, which made more than one but she was scattered at this point. He obliged, getting the meaning if not the letter of the word, stroking soft and then hard—_if this had to happen, then it could at least be nice, _she thought—and Korra moaned.

The sound rang out surprisingly loudly, just in time for the front door to open. Korra gasped in absolute dismay, reality flooding back to her, and she propelled herself away from him, falling to the floor and lurching back up again. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair a mess; he was dishevelled too, and they were both out of breath. Noatak was going to see this, and he was going to _know_, she knew, horrified; she panicked and ran, fled into the kitchen to hide without looking at Tarrlok.

She felt ashamed overall, embarrassed and awful for letting that happen—_for liking it_, some awful voice added—but it had needed to happen, Tarrlok had to trust her. He had been vulnerable and open, and she'd taken advantage of that. She had been the one in control the whole time. But, she thought, raking a hand through her hair and pacing agitatedly, that was the problem. It hadn't felt like that at the end. She knew that she didn't like Tarrlok, she wasn't even vaguely and quietly and guiltily attracted to him like—somebody else—or something—but that had… the feeling _there_, _there_, which she could barely even think to herself… she felt hot, and she rubbed her legs together uncomfortably, wishing it would go away, running her hands down her legs to—

No, and she crossed her arms firmly across her chest to keep away from there—_not with them in the house with her, not after _that.

She didn't have to feel guilty for liking it. Tarrlok was a lot older than she was, he must have been involved with plenty of women and he knew what to do. But the tables had _turned_ on her, and that was what was so unsettling. One moment she had clearly been in charge, directing him to tell her things, to spill some of his darkest secrets, and then _that_, and that _moan_. And it stung that she could have considered it a success, could have nestled it to her chest that at least she had made serious progress and had him wrapped around her little finger for next time, could hold that above him, but no. She had fled like a scalded creature, run away. That was going to be difficult to explain. Korra exhaled heavily, and settled down to lurk uncomfortably amongst the ruined, ancient kitchen.

* * *

She lost count of the number of times that she walked up to that hole in the wall where the doorframe had once been; strode up to it with determination and slunk away in horror. She felt like a coward, hiding in here—and wasn't she? She was going to have to face them sooner or later. It should be sooner, before she lost her nerve. But… she couldn't bring herself to do it. Facing Tarrlok would be bad enough, but with Noatak as well… dealing with the _embarrassment _alone…

Hadn't she promised herself that she'd be brave, that she'd get out of this on her own? If that meant having to play the both of them, swallow her fear and embarrassment, then—_ugh_. She just didn't want to, didn't want to be here or dealing with this awfulness and awkwardness. If only she could cuddle Naga for a little bit, hug her close and take some comfort in that. She'd settle for being able to get up the stairs and sit up there; it felt like solace up there, a little safer.

When the footsteps resounded and someone quite clearly went through the front door, she drew up her courage and stepped out into the pitiful main room. She wasn't sure who she'd hoped had gone and who remained—neither of them, really, if she was grasping for unattainable heights—but when Noatak looked up at her from crouching down in a corner, she fought back the urge to flee then and there.

"Hello," he said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey," she replied, glancing towards the corridor to where she knew the stairs were, and wondering if he would stop her if she just ran for it. Probably wouldn't go down well. Instead, she slouched against the wall and crossed her arms. He'd initiated conversation and that probably meant that she was required to stay for its duration.

Noatak was running his fingers over the uneven surface of the wall; her gaze followed him critically. She wouldn't flinch away. "You've rattled my brother," he said eventually. Her heart lurched oddly when he spoke, but her expression remained cool. She waited. "Are you beginning to adjust, Korra?"

She shrugged. "You tell me." He didn't answer, but sighed and straightened up.

"I don't think this is salvageable," he said, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up on end. She followed the movement, feeling that bizarre curiosity clash with the utter disconnect she felt from him as a person, the active dislike. "We might have to demolish and then rebuild…" He looked to her, and gave her a tiny, real smile. "What?" Korra had been staring.

"You really want to make a life here," she said. "You really want to build a house—and—teach these people—stay here for the rest of your life." Distracted, she uncrossed her arms, and then crossed them again, shifting on the spot uncomfortably. She had to get out of here; all of these scenes of bizarre domesticity, the way that he kept trying to just ask as if they were gelling and getting along rather than acknowledging how she _hated_ him, it was _bothering_ her. She wished that he'd turn scary again, be unpleasant—be _Amon_ again, or something, be that enemy rather than this strange, faintly hopeful man. "And you want _me_ in that life; you really think that I'd stay, that at some point I'd _want_ to stay with you."

It was his turn to shrug. "Stranger things have happened."

"But I was—I _am_—your enemy," she burst out, frustrated. "You held me hostage and knocked me out, and starved me, and you threatened to destroy me, and now you're standing here and talking about _walls_ like any of this matters. What about Republic City, what about the Equalists, what about 'I will destroy you'—_what's going on_? This can't be about having a family, not really; what are you doing?" He put a hand on her shoulder and she shoved it off without a second thought. "Don't touch me," she spat, wheeling away and putting the greater length of the room between them. She was all—scattered, after today, confused and angry about what was going on and she was going to shout at _someone_, okay.

"Odd that my touch repulses you," he said softly, "when you and Tarrlok seemed to be getting along so well earlier. What's _your_ motive, Korra?"

"Jealous?" she shot back at him poisonously; he knew what her motive was. It was the same as it had ever been. Getting back home was her priority, and this wasn't quite serving that purpose but she was so angry, and she needed something to shout at that would shout back. Even now, though, he was cool and calm. She couldn't seem to rile him up, and she couldn't look away. He'd done something funny to her.

Noatak laughed, genuinely amused; she noticed how one eye crinkled more than the other when he smiled properly. "If I said yes?" he asked. "What would you do then? I'm not going to fight over you with my brother like you're a piece of meat. If we're going to make a life here, you have to make your own choices."

"But that's such _crap_," she snapped, "because you didn't care in the forest, you liked throwing me around and then you kissed me, what was that, then?"

His smile turned slightly sour. "I got somewhat carried away. I stopped when I realised that you weren't enjoying it. I didn't realise that, perhaps, I was the wrong brother for you…" She heard her own gasp of horror as if from far away, and without thinking she threw a paint roller at him. He ducked it easily, exasperatedly, and held out his hands irritably.

"I don't want _either_ of you," she said furiously. "All I want is to go home." She was heaving, breath coming awfully quickly, while he was only a little ruffled, a little annoyed; it was infuriating her even further, she was beginning to see red.

"You can't go home," he said, very quietly. "You know too much. I thought we'd established this. You either stay here and make a new life, or I have to kill you. Which would you prefer?" _Calm down_, she thought desperately. _Switch. Don't lie, he'll see through it—just _deflate_._

Korra sank down the floor against the wall, the roughness scratching her back and tearing her clothes. She hit the floor with a thoroughly unceremonious thud and made a rough hiccup. "I don't want to die," she said hollowly. And indeed, she didn't, she definitely didn't want to die—she was the Avatar and it wasn't her time, there were people who needed her and at the moment that they had needed her the most, she had disappeared. "But I—that still doesn't explain why you're doing all this, how weird you're acting. I don't _understand_, I don't get it. Where's Amon; was he just a mask, or… who _are_ you?"

He looked at her with a little bit of empathy and a little bit of pity, and said, "I am whoever I need to be."

* * *

If Tarrlok noticed the strained silence that pervaded the house upon his return—"My walk was fine, yes," he said shortly, and that was all the explanation she got as to his absence—he didn't say anything, and Korra escaped to brood upstairs. She'd cried in front of Noatak—it hadn't taken much—and she was hoping that he thought she was cowed enough to try and make an effort in her 'new life'. Teaching wouldn't be too hard; she kind of liked the people here. If it meant that she could spend more time away from Tarrlok and Noatak, then she wouldn't object to getting to know them, really… _That_ was an idea. She didn't have to spend all her time in this house. She didn't have to be alone.

Getting down the stairs was becoming second nature, and she knew exactly where to step to get down them safely, hopping onto the safe floor with a grunt of satisfaction. "Where are you going?" Noatak called. She turned abruptly to shout back, and saw with some surprise that he was standing there holding a large hammer. Korra immediately began to back off, and he rolled his eyes. "It's for demolition," he drawled, "of these walls, not your skull—or any other part of you. I asked you a question. Where are you going?"

"Yeah, well, you don't really answer any of my questions," she grumbled, heading for the front door. He followed behind her, those footsteps thudding and quick. "Look, I'm just going to talk to people. I'm not going to tell anyone anything, or try and escape, but I'm _bored_." Noatak offered her the hammer, and she looked distrustfully at him.

"Then stay here and help with your new home." She opened her mouth to protest, and he grabbed her hand and put the hammer in it. She felt hot where his fingers had skimmed over her skin, and swallowed uncomfortably. "A little demolition might sweeten your attitude. Which, I'm sure I don't have to say, has not been very sweet." He'd done it again, switched back from being honest and repellent to flippant and genial.

"Whatever," she muttered, but she closed her fingers over the hammer's handle, not looking at him.

"Perhaps later you can go and socialise," he said affably, heading back into the other room, where Tarrlok lurked silently. "It'd be good for you to have some friends your own age." So he didn't trust her enough just yet, but there was promise. She'd just have to be patient, but she _wasn't_ patient. At this point it wasn't enough motivated by escape; she honestly wanted _company_ other than those two. They were doing her head in. She needed to be around other people, and perhaps the heady, weird effect that he had on her would diminish a little.

Someone had put in metal bars between floor and roof, presumably to hold the roof up while they knocked down the walls. She regarded them dubiously. They were discoloured and old looking, rusting and flaking a little in a way that did not inspire confidence. She wasn't going to pass up the chance to hit something, though she could think of one better… Quietly, looking at Noatak furtively, Korra reached for her bending and found it there, fully restored. But it wasn't any real advantage, because he knew that she had it back… Tarrlok glanced at her, just standing there, and she was propelled into motion.

Hefting the hammer in both hands, Korra left thought behind for a moment and gleefully swung it back to collide explosively with the wall. The bits that flew outwards left cuts and scratches, but she lost herself mindlessly for just a little while to physical activity—until the ceiling began to creak ominously, and her cuts and scratches became more than minor pests. She looked up at the ceiling doubtfully. She didn't want that coming down on her head, and her arms were hurting, and so was she where bits of wall had hit her. "That doesn't sound too good," she said. Noatak, occupied with gathering up debris, grunted non-committedly. (Tarrlok ignored both of them. She tried to ascertain what exactly he _was_ doing, and failed. He didn't seem to be doing anything, avoiding menial labour altogether.) An idea occurred; "I could fix that," she added.

"How so?" Noatak said, clearly uninterested.

"Bit of earthbending. That'd hold up the ceiling no problem."

He gave her a thoughtful, piercing look, and her skin crawled with uncomfortable responsiveness. That feeling of intense awareness whenever he looked at her had to _stop_; it was seriously putting her off. Everything. It was putting her off _everything_. She couldn't look him directly in the eyes. "Using your bending to _help_?" he asked, and it was scathing enough that she couldn't tell whether it was sarcastic, irritated or just rhetorical. "How novel."

"Look, I just don't want the ceiling coming down on us," she said. "That's all. Do you want the ceiling coming down on us? Because it sounds like it's going to." Tarrlok looked up at it, more doubtful than his brother.

"Ceilings hold no fears for me," Noatak quipped, leaning onto his elbow across his knee. "But if it's driving you to such distraction, then do whatever you want."

"I could just earthbend us a house," she pointed out, watching him put more debris into his arms and carry it away to a box full of the stuff. Tarrlok sighed hopefully, and looked furtively to Noatak. His brother smiled faintly, and dropped his current load into the box, straightening up and brushing himself off.

"I think the neighbours might notice that," he said.

"This is _boring_," she said, getting to the crux of the issue. "I still don't want to build a house with you."

He sighed. "And here I thought you'd finally—of course not. Of course you have to make everything as difficult as possible." Noatak looked more sternly at her, and she thought with irritation that all she'd wanted was some time away from the both of them, and what she'd got was _even more_ time with them. _Great_. "Be quiet, and either reinforce the ceiling with your helpful, helpful bending, or carry on bashing away at the wall." He ignored her huff of impatience, and regarded the room thoughtfully. "We're making progress."

* * *

The rest of the day passed without much merit; Korra attempted to retire back to her stairs at every opportunity she got and some that she didn't, and failed every time. He was determined that she was going to stay there and suffer. Eventually, albeit grudgingly at the thought of helping them, she pulled off a little bit of earthbending—the ceiling was making increasingly horrible noises—to completely destroy the remains of the floor and hold up the building. Afterwards, she smoothed down the floor, and took to merrily destroying the rest of the wall to specifically aim at her compatriots—until Tarrlok lost his temper and (without looking at her) snapped at her to stop.

She leapt out of the room before he could call her back, and had an uneasy night's sleep at the top of the stairs, refusing to come down even for dinner. It was sad, she thought, stirring stiffly and narrowly avoiding rolling down the stairs altogether, that teaching a bunch of strangers basic techniques that _children_ learned was now the highlight of her day, but if it meant time away from the two of them then she was going to go for it. Tarrlok had been essentially mute for most of yesterday after—afterwards—and she knew that she needed to talk to him again and strike while the iron was hot, but, oh, she just couldn't. It seemed that they'd reverted to their own dynamic; that vulnerable side had disappeared again, and she didn't know to get it back.

As it turned out, Tarrlok had had similar thoughts. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking as tired as she felt. She was guessing that, judging by the shadows underneath his eyes and the lack of screaming she'd heard—or not heard—in the night, that he hadn't really slept either. For a moment, she thought that it must be hard to have no refuge in sleep, and then she told herself to stop pitying him. He was one of her jailors.

"We need to talk," he said when she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she nearly laughed from how absurd it was, but she nodded and he guided her to the front door. "Going for a walk," he called, and Noatak called something sleepily unintelligible back. Odd. She would have pegged him as a morning person. "Let's go," he said quietly, and they slipped out of the front door. "How long has it been since you practiced your bending?" he asked. That struck her as an odd question, and she gave him a look that said so. "That long, then. We need a reason to be out here; it doesn't matter if Noatak believes it or not. He'll probably think that… never mind, it doesn't matter—"

"What do we need to talk about?" Korra interrupted abrasively. He sighed, sounding so like his brother for a moment that it threw her, and she crossed her arms defensively. "What happened yesterday, because—uh—well—" He cut her off in turn.

"Yes and no," he said, seeming very distracted. "Walk a little faster. I don't want anyone following us."

"Why would anyone follow us?" she demanded, scurrying to keep up with him as he sped up. "Do you mean Noatak by 'anyone'?" From his tense silence, she deduced that the answer to that would be _yes_. "So this isn't just about yesterday," she continued, thinking aloud, "it's about Noatak, because you don't want him to hear."

He gestured to her to walk faster. She groaned but tried to walk faster once more, hoping that this was going to be worth it. When they had reached the little copse of trees she'd fled to before, he stopped, and they stood there catching their breath for a moment. "I think we're far away enough now," he said, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I've been thinking—"

"Don't hurt yourself," she interrupted snidely, unable to help herself. He looked at her for a second, and she shrugged. "What?"

"We don't have _time_ for this," he said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. He was really upset about something.

"Why?" she asked. "What's changed?"

"Nothing's changed." He paused. "Not really. This has been coming a while. And you sped it up a lot—this time, would you please actually listen to me rather than—just being _rude_ to me?" Tarrlok looked intensely at her, and that vulnerability was back—she remembered sharply those hands down her back, searching until they found that exact place that made her tick, which was not helping when she wanted to be in control—and right at the foreground. It pained her to admit it, but she was curious about he was going to say, and she nodded. "Right. Good.

"I think we need to get away," he said, and she let out air that she hadn't even known that she was holding in a surprised whoosh.

"You want to escape," she said, just to let it sink away. "Escape from Noatak." He looked immensely uncomfortable, but he nodded, albeit troubled, and turned away turbulently to pace.

"I've given it a lot of thought. I haven't been with him that long, and even I… blinded as I am by wanting, by wanting him to be my brother, I can see how he's changed. He's not the Noatak that I knew," Tarrlok said, and she could see how much it pained him to admit that. She thought that there might even be tears in his eyes, and so she stared at the ground instead. "And I don't think that he's going to be the Noatak that I knew. Whatever he saw on his travels, it changed him too much, and he can't be my brother again." She patted him awkwardly on the back, not sure what to do, and he turned back to her with such force that he threw off her hand. "I—" was all he managed to say, tearfully, jerkily, and then he was reaching for her again.

_I could move_, she thought. _I could say no_—_he'd listen, and he'd stop_. She couldn't tell whether it was the fact that he was reaching out for her with that desperation or whether it was desire to get to where she wanted, because she still didn't even like him, but she let him wrap his arms around without grudging it. Traitorously, she remembered that kiss again, and felt a hot flush come over her, but that wasn't what he was actually after right now. Slowly, without the slightest tinge of tenderness, she put her arms around him as well and gave him another bracing pat on the back.

He coughed onto her shoulder, which was gross and unpleasant, so she patted him a little more lightly. "There, there," she said, not entirely sure what she was supposed to do. He mumbled something into her shoulder that might have been a reluctant _thank you_. Korra decided, angelically, not to push his pride by asking him to repeat that. Her enemy—and captor—was crying on her shoulder; she could afford to be magnanimous.

Eventually, he stopped hacking and sniffing—Tarrlok cried unpleasantly—and raised his head from her shoulder to her face. His nose, wet with tears, brushed across her in a way that was decidedly unromantic, but Korra wasn't really in this for the romance. She was genuinely in control this time, and although it was making her squirm—and not in… that way, either—so she didn't have to feel about—oh, she was going to feel weird about it anyway, so she might as well—

Korra kissed him, ignoring the automatic shrieking that occurred inside her own head at what she was doing, and hoped intensely that she wasn't being too awkward and fumbling. If he laughed at her, or seemed amused, or just rebuffed her, she was going to crawl into a hole of embarrassment no matter what promises he'd made her regarding escaping, and she was never going to come out.

But as last time, Tarrlok knew what he was doing, and he moved only slightly less smoothly than he had before; sinuous and moving about until he found the points that she liked—points that she hadn't known she had, but he seemed to locate with careful accuracy. It was enough to make her forget, for a while, what would await her when she resurfaced. The way that he moved could make her forget, for a little bit, that he was Tarrlok. And old and gross. Old and gross but an astonishingly good kisser. (Not _that_ old, really.)

He ran his fingers through her hair and down her neck and onto her back, and she dug her nails into his shoulders; he made a noise of appreciation that nearly prompted her into laughter—Tarrlok liked being scratched? Sure, why not—and she drew her fingers across his shoulder blades to try and make him make that noise again. This was power, in a way, this was relatively even footing, and she'd been crushed and sat on for so long that some power, any power, was good. And he wanted to _escape_.

Lightly, skimming across her skin gently, his hands worked their way into her dress. His thumb, work hardened and pleasantly rough, moved across one of her breasts; she jumped a little and he began to rub, circles upon circles getting increasingly larger until he was holding her in his hand. He was so warm, melting into her and making her hotter and hotter, that burning feeling down there back again, insistent. It was there that she wanted—there that she—

Korra remembered, with some reluctance, who this was and what she was doing. This was far enough, even it made her feel—well, especially if it made her feel that way. _Old and gross_, she chanted, _old and gross_, but it was losing some of its power. He was a lot older than her, but he wasn't… gross. Not… really.

She disengaged gently this time, pulling away softly. "How are we going to escape?" she asked, flushed and panting, trying not to think exactly too hard about the fact that it was _Tarrlok_ there. _Think about home_, she told herself. _Think of going _home.


	7. SEVEN

Remember when I last updated? (Haha, neither do I.) Applying to uni has made everything very complicated and four A Levels mean that I am very busy. Have some smut!

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**SEVEN**

* * *

Korra was still uncomfortably hot. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to cooled down (mentally, but physically was a good start). She was one step closer to getting back home.

Tarrlok was looking at her pitifully, and she repeated her question a bit more impatiently, "How are we going to escape?" His expression was mournful, slightly hungry, and he was shuffling slowly sideways. "What are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms. "We've only got so long before he comes looking for us or gets suspicious—no, really, what are you doing?" She then saw the bulge in his trousers, and she understood. "Oh," she said, abruptly very uncomfortable.

It was one thing to kiss him to get what she wanted and be all right with liking that—sort of, she was still telling herself that it was okay, but somehow she couldn't reconcile herself with it emotionally—and maybe even to go a little further, but… _that_… "You can't just do _that_," he said, his voice slightly husky—it broke on the "that", and she choked back a snort—"and stop like that and expect me to… _Korra_." She wasn't looking at him. She couldn't. All of a sudden she was feeling considerably embarrassed. "Have you changed your mind again?"

"Again?" she asked, startled out of her silence. "I changed my mind before?"

"When you _ran away_," he pointed out, managing a somewhat dry tone amongst the hoarseness. "We seemed to be getting along just fine for a moment"—he gave her a look, and she nearly snapped something rude there, but this was important—"and then you ran off." Tarrlok paused, and groaned, and fiddled with one of the hair-tails framing his face. "Look, that didn't help my ego much—"

"Your ego doesn't need any more help," she said snidely. Tarrlok looked oddly wounded, and crossed his arms defensively, still shifting from side to side awkwardly, that bulge still not subsiding.

"You don't know anything about my ego. For all you know—" He stopped, and muttered, "Never mind."

Arguing with Tarrlok was one of the few ways Korra could feel control; arguing with Noatak inevitably ended in a death threat, mildly said or genuinely menacing. "What," she taunted, "you're really a shy little flower? Come on. You're as arrogant as they come."

"You know _nothing_," he said, suddenly savage and furious. "What are you? A useless failure of an Avatar; why haven't you accessed the Avatar State to save yourself? Why haven't you used your superior bending to get away? Because you _can't_. You're an arrogant, stupid little girl, and I—I—" The way he was moving was desperate, frenetic, but he kept looking back at her almost hungrily; the juxtaposition of vulnerability in how he couldn't stop looking but how angry he was, it was making her head hurt. And she was watching as well, her gaze following him as he paced. She wasn't as oddly drawn to him as she was to Noatak, but watching him move was hypnotic. She couldn't help remembering how those hands felt on her, and then she was getting hot again. "I should never have come to you," he said. "This was a mistake; every time I try to talk to you it ends up being a mistake."

Tarrlok turned away to leave, and Korra panicked a little. She leapt forward, pulled at the back of his jacket, and as he swung back around she threw her arms up and found that spot—or at least she hoped that it was the right one—and dragged her nails softly down his shoulders. He made a whimpering noise that seemed to go right through her; for a moment, she shivered, and then she tried to pull herself together, but she'd never felt like this before and she had no idea what to _do_ with it.

He looked down at her, conflicted. "You can't want this," he said, and she knew that it wasn't a statement, but more of a question. "It's not _me_ that you want. I've seen how you look at Noatak, and I know that you hate me."

"I don't hate you," Korra said. Her thoughts were racing, and she had no idea what she was doing, but she was going to try; she traced patterns on his shoulders lightly with her fingertips, making little stories out of his skin to keep her courage up. _Once, there was a woman who was taken far from home_… She couldn't make herself say "I do want you", though. First of all, it just sounded awkward and horrible and she'd probably go bright red, which would not be attractive. And… she couldn't tell if it was a total lie and would sound totally false, or if it was too close to the truth…

He laughed briefly, without any humour, and ran one hand through her hair, shaking it completely out of any remnants of its style. She breathed deeply. "You don't hate me. That's the best we have."

"Do you need anything more?" she asked before she could lose her nerve. _Keep it going, it'll be worth it, you just have to not stop and really think about what you're doing, this means you might be able to get away_.

Tarrlok shrugged. "Love. Care. An age gap of less than twenty years." Korra thought wryly that he didn't mention the fact she was technically a captive; didn't he suspect that she was just playing on him to escape? She'd hoped, and it seemed so, that he was too blinded by his actual desire. He was trying to rationalise a _relationship _between the two of them, she thought with a shudder—hoped that he'd chalk that one up to being overcome by his studliness—a proper, functioning relationship outside this situation. "But this will do," he murmured.

This time, he didn't kiss her at first. Or he kind of did, but not on the lips; instead, he kissed the top of her head—_o…kay?_ she thought, a little weirded out by that—then moving down, brushing her hair from one side of her neck to kiss the curve where neck became shoulder. Korra felt like a lump just standing there, but all she knew that he liked was his _shoulders_, there must be something else. Oh, _help_, she couldn't be sexy, she didn't know what to do—so she moved to pulling off his jacket as he traced a path down her skin. He was doing all right, she had to admit; she was feeling a lot hotter—actually, she was starting to squirm a little bit—

Victoriously, she dumped his jacket to the ground, and managed to slide her hands up his shirt. He was pretty muscled, like she remembered from all the way back when Noatak was Amon, and she ran her hands over that definition, up and around to his back, pulling them closer together. In response, he opened up her dress and picked up where he'd left off, tracing circles, rubbing patterns until she was leaning into him, pressing against him. But where she felt most tense, where—if she really admitted it to herself—she wanted him to touch—it was _down there_, and that was the only way she could bear to put it. But she couldn't ask him, she couldn't say; he'd probably laugh at her for saying _down there_ for starters, and it would be some kind of betrayal—it would mean that Tarrlok was the first person to really touch her besides herself—

Korra caught her breath as his other hand began to slide up her leg, gently and unbearably slowly. She dug her fingers into his back, beginning to well and truly pant, the anticipation making her unbelievably tense. "You're sure?" he murmured in her ear, and his voice was enough to melt her further. She nodded, nodded again, and tried the small of his back, running her nails lightly over it.

His hand was large and warm between her legs, but nothing compared to how hot she felt. His fingers were then on her thighs, and then onto _there_, and one finger traced a lazy line, simply from start to finish. Korra frowned a little. It felt good, but not mind blowing like she'd been expecting. And wasn't he supposed to… go inside… or something? "Fast or slow?" he asked, that rumble echoing through her.

"Uhh," she said, and he either caught her slight embarrassment and lack of knowledge, or simply decided to go ahead. That finger traced the same line again, then once more, slightly faster, and _that_ was nice, she decided; her legs went a little weak when he alternated stroking hard and fast with soft and gentle, and that heat was building to something almost unbearable. And then, without her even realising for a second, he was inside her. Like some twit, she gasped, and he stopped. "No," she mumbled, and he stilled completely. "No—I—keep going," she managed to spit out in between breathing rather fast, "_keep going_."

So he did, slipping in and out much faster than she could have ever managed, back and forth until she was practically leaning on him, holding on and panting incoherent things. He kept alternating, switching rhythm whenever it got a little boring—and when his other hand went back to her breast she thought that she might have cursed at that feeling; she knew that he laughed, because they were so close together that their voices vibrated through each other.

The hand that was on her breast left—she swallowed back a complaint—and took her arm gently; she cottoned on a bit late and gave him her hand. Tarrlok guided her gently downwards, and she realised what he wanted, and blanched. "Um," she said. "Um."

"Do you want to stop?" he whispered. _No_, she thought, _ not really_—but she'd just had a little moment of panic at the thought of a—of his—she was at least a little acquainted with her own _down there_, but somebody's else's was a little frightening, but she had felt like a lump standing here and doing nothing, so—

"No," she mumbled, letting him guide her onwards. How he managed to keep going on her was mysterious—and really distracting—as she pulled down his trousers a little bit, and undid his loincloth thing, and _eep_. It kind of didn't look how she'd expected. He coaxed her fingers gently across _it_, using the same back and forth motion, and then he left her to it. A little bit lost, she tried to imitate what he was doing equivalently and see if she could get any kind of reaction out of him; she ran her fingers up and down, soft, and then around, around and around—that got a moan, and that was enthusing. Involuntarily she pressed a little harder as he hit a particularly good spot, and he seemed to like that so she tried more in that direction, and found that she rather liked it when he moved like that, when he was under her control.

When she moved faster and faster, he got tenser and tenser, stroking her faster in turn. There was desperation to them that hadn't been there before, as if they were working to a fever pitch, co-operating for a short amount of time—regardless of who he was, he was making her feel really, really good—

There was a swell that Korra rode, and then she came abruptly back to herself and her hand was kind of sticky. She regarded it critically, determined not to make this awkward, and the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "Have you got a tissue?" She'd gone too far in the opposite direction. She sounded appallingly casual. Maybe a little out of breath. Tarrlok opened his eyes, leaning against one of the stunted trees, and shrugged. "We have to get back at some point, we've been gone ages," she tried again, and he waved at her pleadingly to be quiet, still panting. Some part of her wondered if they were supposed to snuggle now, and she pushed that away immediately. They were _not_ going to snuggle.

Looking long-suffering, he pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and tossed it to her. She began mopping up, refusing to look at him straight on, and sorted out her clothes until she was sort of presentable. Her hair, though, might be beyond saving. It was obviously completely ruffled; she'd need a mirror to sort it out, and she had no idea where the ties themselves were… Also, she might be thinking through lots of mundane things to avoid really thinking about what had just happened. Well, _shit_.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him sorting himself out. Argh, argh, argh. She looked at the ground and smoothed out creases to have something to do with her hands—those hands that had—and waited. They were going to have to talk about this, another conversation that they needed to have that she did not want to have at all. When she next looked up, he was looking directly at her, and she was caught for a moment by those eyes, that expression that she couldn't decipher at all.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Korra actually swore then, dropping the handkerchief and hoping that he didn't notice it, sure that this was some strange nightmare. Noatak emerged from the trees—_how the hell did he always find her_—with a small smile. His gaze flitted between the two of them, and she hoped to whoever was listening that they didn't look too incriminating, not too awful. How long had he been there? Long enough that he'd heard them planning to escape, the argument? Long enough to _watch_ them? That thought was dreadful, and she swallowed hard, skin tingling oddly at the idea of him lurking in the trees, a slight touch of warmth spreading—

"You were gone for rather a long time," he said, explaining far too affably for the strained silence, "and we have lessons to teach, so I thought I'd better come find you. If I did interrupt something, I am terribly sorry… We should get along, though… I'll see you in town. Don't stay too long." Bizarrely fast, it seemed to her, he turned and disappeared past some of the trees, out of sight too fast in something that was too small to get lost in.

Korra stared, wide-eyed, at Tarrlok, awkwardness forgotten. "Do you think he knows?" she asked, pulling at her hair distractedly. Damned hair!

"Knows _what_?" Tarrlok inquired delicately. She glared at him.

"Either," she snapped. "Do you think he heard, do you think that he saw?" She began to pace. "If he _saw_." She stopped abruptly to groan, not at all attractively, and yanked on her hair again. "He wouldn't watch, though, right? He's gross, but he's not _that_ gross." She could hear the touch of doubt in her own voice.

Tarrlok shrugged. "I'm not sure I wouldn't put it past him." He looked oddly blank; she wondered if he was freaking out inside rather than obviously, because it seemed a curiously flat reaction to the thought that _his brother had maybe watched them pretty much having sex_. Oh, _hell_, she'd pretty much had sex with _Tarrlok_.

"Oh _no_," she moaned. "Really. _No._"

He shrugged again. "Well, whatever he saw, we do have to go teach people, unless you want to run away now." She looked up, strange relief flooding through her that he still did want that, that she hadn't just thrown herself at him for nothing—well, not nothing, she felt pleasantly tingly and a little tired—that he still did want to get away. "I don't think that's the best idea, though," he continued.

"Neither do I," she said. "So we'll have to get away again and talk. What's Noatak going to think…?"

"You know what he'll think. Just refuse to tell him, and he'll come up with his own ideas. It'll be fine—but we should probably leave it a little while. For now, we really need to get back to the town and teach those bumpkins how to _stand _properly…" He grumbled nonsense quietly as he set off, and Korra hurried into step alongside him, but not too closely. The awkwardness had returned in full force, but she couldn't let it show, he had to believe that she was right there with him… She fiddled with her hair to have something to do, putting it up in the world's messiest bun and not even worrying about the hair loopies this time.

"They're not so bad," she said, thinking of how hard those people tried. He snorted, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. The courtyard was pretty much full again, and this time people had set up around the outside even more heavily; not just children were perched about, but women and men with small tasks had formed groups and set out chairs to watch. Tarrlok and Korra walked up to where Chen stood, his back to them and his arms gesticulating wildly. Korra ducked a throw and flashed a luminescently bright smile at him, which seemed to confuse him; of course, she was fairly sure that he'd mainly seen her sullen and disagreeable. At the moment, she was stretched a little thin and probably overdoing it. She toned down the smile, and tried not to bounce off the walls.

"Well," he said dubiously, "now that Kanna and Arnook are here, I suppose we can start." He turned to the large group of people, and began shouting at them to try and get everyone to quiet down. Korra spotted Noatak to her right, standing there with his hands in his pockets and looked utterly at ease. She scowled. Filthy, weird man. When everybody was finally quiet—it took some time—Chen then had the job of getting everybody to split into their three groups. This was further complicated by the arrival of some people who had not signed up for it the first time round or had just sidled in, in the hopes that they could join unnoticed, who did not have groups. Korra watched, restraining the urge to laugh at what might be becoming chaos.

Eventually, they were sorted; Korra recognised her group and ambled over to them, offering them a slightly quieter version of how she'd smiled at Chen. Some of the people that she'd already met returned it; rather off-puttingly, one person frowned at her.

"Hello," she said, strangely enthused for this. "People who don't already know me, I'm Kanna, and I'll be your teacher." She was aware of Amon out of the corner of her eyes, and smiled even more brightly. Soon, she would be away from him, or he'd be in prison, locked away for as long as possible. Buoyed up by thoughts of freedom, Korra smiled brilliantly at her middle aged students and prepared to do something that might be good, in amongst all the badness.

The false name had tasted badly in her mouth, but she stepped into the role of teacher with naïve determination. Remembering Tenzin's frustration with her and their frequent head-butting, she was chiefly concerned with being the _most awesome teacher ever_. First of all, she should check if they remembered what they'd done last time. The important thing about the basics was that they were reinforced over and over again until they became automatic. If you didn't have a strong base, then you were weak from your very core.

Of course, Korra herself hadn't been quite so understanding at the time. She remembered with fondness one particular incident where she'd lost patience and asked someone to check her breathing, firebending, and belched flames into their face. That man's beard had never really grown back afterwards, and she considered it a proud achievement. But these people didn't have to know that.

"Okay," she announced, rolling about on the balls of her feet and hoping that they didn't think that she just needed to pee or something, "some of you are new, I think? So we're going to go over what I taught you last time for the people who were here, and for the people who weren't. Uh, so… anyone want to go first?" There was silence. Korra waited.

Still, there was silence. To her astonishment, the middle aged people in front of her turned into small children, turning over their hands and looking behind them, shifting uncomfortably. Nobody would make eye contact. "Uh, so I'll do it, then?" she said, still hopefully. One woman raised her head, suddenly, jerkily, and moved forwards impulsively.

"I could give it a go," she said hurriedly. Korra's uncertain face burst into a beaming smile, and she gestured to the front. The woman moved up and, with a few slightly clumsy movements, settled into a passable base stance. Korra beamed as wide as her mouth could go, and stepped forward with a keen eye to correct a few weaknesses; feet slightly too close together, wobbling a little—that was weak muscles, though, couldn't be helped at this stage—but aside from that, a decent effort.

Korra felt like she should congratulate the woman, give her praise, but it stuck oddly in her throat. She herself liked encouragement, liked to be told that she was doing well, but it just… anything she could think of simply sounded awfully awkward. She settled for giving the woman a gentle slap on the back—which rocked her on her feet a little, but Korra was pleased not to see her go sprawling—and asking, "What's your name, then?"

"Mei-li," she replied, with a tentative smile.

"That was… ah, that was good, Mei-li," Korra managed, accompanying it with an impressive cough and shifting about a bit. "So. Well done. What Mei-li did," she continued, turning to the faces that she didn't think she recognised, "was a base stance. Try and do it yourselves." It was clear who lacked confidence; some people moved straight away, faces bored or furrowed in concentration, and others shuffled, watching them first to move before doing anything. Mei-li resumed the pose herself, biting her lip with concentration. Another woman beside her gave her a grin and a pat on the back—much gentler than Korra's—and watched Mei-li's movements to settle into a rough approximation of a base stance. "I'm going to correct you now," Korra said, and she set off, poking and prodding gently.

The woman standing by Mei-li gave her a cheeky wink when Korra came to correct her. "I bet I'm awful," she said cheerfully. "You do what you need here, sweetheart, I never done anything like this in my life. Thought I might finally be able to beat those what steals from the cooking pot. We've got enough of them, hungry bodies." The chatter was incredibly familiar, almost affectionate, and it was the first real kindness that Korra had seen since she'd left Republic City that she didn't feel suspicious about. Grudgingly, she felt a little warmly towards the woman, and gave her a small smile.

"What's your name?" she asked, a little less freely than she had with Mei-li.

"I'm Xue. Already met your friends, been giving them food for the past few days. Don't half eat a bit, do you lot? Coming from the city, I'll bet you get all the food you want there." Korra remembered with some guilt the food that she had spilled on the floor. Ah, really though, she didn't need to feel guilty, a spoonful wasn't going to _really_ hurt anyone. She was becoming a bleeding heart the longer she stayed here. "Am I doing all right?" she asked, filling the conversational gap with ease. Korra looked her over thoughtfully, and nodded. "Ah, good. Thought I were just going to be rubbish, but maybe there's hope after all." Mei-li looked up from her own concentration and gave a tiny smile full of affection to the other woman. Korra's heart constricted for a moment, and she wondered about her own friends. They'd only had a short time together. They'd never looked at her like that, with such genuine love. There hadn't been time, there'd been too much drama.

All of a sudden, she just wanted to go _home_, not to Republic City but to her parent's house, to curl up in the blankets and have her mother stroke her hair and her dad tell her funny stories and then her mother and father to bicker over the details while she laughed, and her dad to sit by her feet and tickle them as he spoke. She wanted her mum. She wanted her dad. She wanted Naga by her side to bury herself into her fur and be close and warm to another being.

When she looked up, nearly tearful, she met Xue's eyes for a second and found surprise and sympathy. "Sweetheart, you all right?" she asked immediately. Korra, pressing her lips to avoid tears—_don't cry here, don't cry here_—nodded shortly and tersely and walked away stiffly, feeling Xue's gaze still on her. Beside her, Mei-li looked, delicately birdlike, trying to understand, between of the two of them.

"Okay," Korra announced, clearing her throat, "I think what I'm seeing is that you've got the idea, but your muscles just aren't strong enough. I'm guessing you don't work out?" Somebody snorted, and she took that as a yes, even a contemptuous one. "You guys need to work out." _I need to work out_, she thought determinedly. It had been too long. "So… we're going to start with a walk."

There were some looks of disbelief. "A _walk_?" one man said; one of the ones who had laughed derisively. "We walk every single day of our lives, darlin', we walk everywhere, isn't no other way out here. You want us to _walk_?"

"Yeah," Korra said, rankling at the condescending tone. "Yeah, actually. You need to warm up a bit, don't want you to injure your muscles. Injuries are harder to get over when you're older, they're more serious." She'd been proud that she'd thought of taking it slow because they were older. And they were undernourished, which had just occurred to her now, and she was impressed that she'd thought of that as well. Their muscles would automatically be weaker. That was kind of annoying, actually. Nourishment was important for strength, she'd been told that plenty of times, and she was starting at a generous disadvantage with these people, and now they were being snotty at her.

"_Walking_?" he repeated, in the same incredulous tone, ignoring everything she'd said completely. "Look, we come here to learn how to defeat benders and steal big things and make a better life for us, and you want us to go walking. Don't think so, love." Korra knew that Amon was watching her, and that made her even more tetchy and irritable. She wasn't having any mutinies aboard her ship.

"Then go home," she snapped. "If you want to be a master in a day, then go home and dream, bub. I can't do that for you. I've been training since I was about five. I'm really good, but it didn't happen overnight. I trained and I did the really boring bits, because without the really boring bits you can't get to the good bits. So sorry if it's boring, but I can't help that. Do you want to learn or not?"

"Shut up, you waste of space," Xue chimed in robustly, hands on her hips. "Some of us are interested, even us that have never run a day in our lives. I'll go walking, sounds a sight better than running." Some other people nodded, and Korra felt buoyed, if somewhat upstaged.

"So yeah," she said. "Are you staying, or not?" Mutinously, with a great of reluctance, the man put his hands up as a peace gesture and subsided. "Okay. It'll only be about five minutes or so. We're going to start gently today. If it's so boring that you really can't take it, then go home," she added as a parting shot to the annoying people, and she set off at a brisk pace. She needed to get them active, but not tired out from the start. Despite all claims to 'walking lots' and some hard labour, she didn't think that they were really that strong.

Gradually, conversation set in, and the others gravitated into natural groupings. At the head of the pack, Korra felt somewhat isolated, but focused on one foot in front of the other, looking at her surroundings if the floor grew too uninteresting. After a minute or two, the two women grew level with her, on one side, and they smiled at her, each in their idiosyncratic way. "Thought you could do with some company," Xue said affably. Korra suspected that she hadn't forgotten that tearful expression. There was something unpatronisingly motherly in Xue, something that reached out affectionately. "Where are you from, then? We always assume the city, just what we call not here, really."

Korra blanched. She tried to remember what Amon had said—were they from the city? Were they immigrants from the Water Tribe? Which one? In a moment of panic, she decided to just tell the truth about herself. "I'm from the Southern Water Tribe originally," she said, hoping that her pause hadn't been too noticeable. "Moved to the city more recently." She crossed her fingers that they wouldn't ask _which_ city, and luckily they didn't, simply nodding. "Are you guys from here?"

"Born and bred Tu Zin," Xue said cheerily. "Born in this shithole, never really left. Mei-li ran away from home when she was younger." Mei-li nodded at this, apparently content that her friend spoke for her. "She's not from far, but she's seen a bit more of the world. Her family had money when she were a tot, and she's been to the Fire Nation!"

"Once," Mei-li explained peaceably.

"It counts!"

"I was two," she told Korra serenely.

"I still think that counts!" Smiling a little, Korra looked behind them to check that everyone was keeping up, and to see if everyone was still there. Grumpy man was heading up the pack, practically stepping on the heels of their feet, and though there was some variety and gaps in the procession—one person was a bit far behind, so she slowed a bit—most people were keeping up and nobody looked about to die from boredom. Amon was watching them from his group, who were doing stretches. He still looked amused. She flushed under his gaze and stared at the ground¸ having to be careful not to randomly speed up. Then, almost compulsively, out of morbid curiosity, she looked over at Tarrlok. At that, she went hot all over and flushed again, giving a brief shudder. Appalled at her own reaction, she wondered, horrified, when they had started to affect her this physically.

Even worse, Xue was giving her a meaningful look when she glanced up, a joking, familiar look. Korra brought the group to an abrupt halt, deciding that they'd done enough walking, and gathered them around. "We're done with that for today," she said, hoping that the blush had faded by now, "but it's something that should be a routine at the beginning of every work out, just to get you going a little. Now we're going to do some strengthening… uh, I guess we should start with the legs?" Maybe she should have started with core, she thought, but it was their legs that were the problem right now… maybe a mix of both. She could set homework, after all. That thought made her grin. "So if everyone stands with their feet about… shoulder width… make sure you're in your own space first… and then take a big step forward." She demonstrated as she spoke, hoping that there was enough room in the dress that she was wearing. This was so much less _comfortable_ than what she usually wore. "Then sink down as far as you're comfortable, your leg should be at a right angle but we're not going for broke here, and you come up really slowly to give your muscles a work out." Her legs didn't protest at all, but she felt like it took a bit more effort than usual. She frowned. Could she be so out of shape already? Well, either way, she needed to pick up the training. If she was going to defeat Amon, then she needed to be in shape.

There was a howl of protest from someone, and Korra rose carefully out of the stance. "If everyone could keep repeating that," she said, "not too fast, take it slow, keep alternating legs," and she hurried over to him. "What's wrong?" she asked, pulling at her lip. He looked like he was in real pain.

"My knee," he gasped. "I hurt it years ago, never got better. _Shit_," he added, going slightly red in the face with pain. "Does this mean I can't do this?" The pained look took on another dimension. As weird as it was, the fact that he was hurt over the idea of not being able to continue did make Korra feel a little bit good.

"No, no," she assured him. "You'll just have to be careful with your knee. If you just take much littler steps than the rest of us, and you only go down a little bit, is that better for you?" Gingerly, he tried it out, and after a hiss when he'd gone too far, he managed a couple of experimental, successful lunges. A slow look of grim pleasure appeared, and he began to speed up. "Not so fast," Korra said. "You need to go slow. Not just you. Everyone. The point is that your muscles get to work; you don't race through it. Got it?" He nodded.

After that, she had them do a variety of things. Sit-ups were too much at this point, too intensive, so she went for one leg crunches instead; some heel raises, and some very gentle squats. Some people were already chafing at the bit, but they had to build up slowly at their age. She tried not to think about the fact that she wouldn't be here for very long if it went her way. She was giving them the tools. If they didn't use them after she left, then it was their own fault. Hopefully, she wouldn't be here too long… if that meant never seeing them truly improve, she thought that she could let that go without too much trouble.

When the megaphone rang out—completely garbled at the beginning—she was satisfied. They were making a good effort. She herself was a tad out of breath, which wasn't good, and she was already planning work outs for her more advanced level. She wasn't out of shape, but it was beginning to slide that way. Amon was dangerous. Korra needed to be at the top of her game to take him on.

Her students began to drift away, some even saying goodbye—one or two saying thank you!—and Xue and Mei-li lingered. "Want to come keep us company?" Xue asked, and Korra couldn't help smiling at her framing it as Korra helping _them_. She'd… she'd like some company. Even if she needed to talk to Tarrlok, she didn't have any concrete ideas yet to contribute, and she wouldn't be with them _that_ long… plus, she just needed to talk to people without arguing, without threats. She nodded enthusiastically and walked off with them, wishing that they were going a little faster so that she could escape before either of the brothers noticed.

They went to the building where Korra had smelled food, and slipped in. There was no-one there at the moment—"They won't start appearing for a few hours," Xue explained—and they chose a table. Xue sat at the head, dangling her legs over the edge and propping her feet up on a chair. Mei-li took up a place next to her, crossing her legs and hunching over slightly, and Korra leaned on the other end of the table so that she faced them.

Xue looked around them, wrinkling her nose slightly. Her dark hair fell into her face ever so slightly—it had escaped from her messy bun somewhere in the middle of the walk—and she pushed it back, thick, strong fingers moving deftly. Korra couldn't help but to notice that her nose was broken, though nearly imperceptibly, and she wondered what on earth could have caused that. She was shabby, and unlike some of the others, her clothes did not speak of one day having been fine. Her dress had clearly always been poor quality, and it was ripped and darned untidily, as well as poorly fitting. It was rather unflattering. Xue herself was no great beauty, but she spoke with an incredible amount of energy, which combatted her dour appearance.

Her friend was rather different, and Korra wondered what had brought the two of them together. Mei-li had a touch of beauty about her; when she was younger, she must have been quite pretty, though the lines that had crept over her face had obscured it somewhat. Her hair was thinner and sleeker, though that was probably more down to care-taking than nature—she'd even put it up in two neat buns—and she was slimmer in build, and ever so slightly taller. That dress had definitely once been expensive.

And Korra at the end had no idea how she fit into this picture, how they perceived her, what they thought of her relationship with the two men she travelled with…

"I'm starting to hate this place," Xue said, with a sigh. Mei-li took her hand and gave it a silent squeeze, a little smile offered, and Xue gave her a look of such affection that Korra felt she was intruding for a moment. It passed when Xue looked at her and shrugged. "You must think we're such backwater folks, living in this mess. And they put me in charge of cooking! _You're in _charge, they says, _you're the _boss, as if I don't _know_—ugh. Never mind. You don't need to hear my rambling, do you. I can talk another time. We want to hear about you, and the big city, like."

Korra saw danger down this route—but, when the time came, there would have to be a big fight, wouldn't there? She couldn't see Amon just going down easily. The townspeople would be in danger. If she had allies amongst them… Did she have the time to bother, though? But if she had people who trusted her… Maybe if she saw Xue and Mei-li a few more times and decided whether she could trust them. As much as it rankled, she really couldn't do this on her own. She liked them anyway, and she wouldn't mind spending more time with them, and having people that she could rely on was no bad thing—though she'd rather do it herself—so if she could tell them little bits about herself that would tip them off, tell them that things weren't quite right…

All this flitted through her mind in moments, but she took just long enough that the two began to look perplexed. "If you don't want to, I can talk about us," Xue offered, smoothing the moment over. "We just haven't been far, so we thought it'd be a chance to learn, but we understand if you don't want to."

"Oh, no," Korra said, "don't worry, sorry, I was just thinking. My last week, the last few days, they haven't been so great… I didn't really want to leave the city." Xue looked sympathetic, and Mei-li patted her on the knee. It was odd to have that simple, kind, regular, unthinking human touch—not like the last real human touch she'd had—from kind people. "It wasn't really my decision," she added, brooding a little. "But I'm getting too serious," she said, laughing a little. It came out awkwardly, and she could see them frowning out of the corner of her eye. They were a little suspicious about that. Good.

"You want to know about the city? Okay, for a start, it's big. And when I got there, I had no idea what I was doing," she continued, with a fond smile. She started from the very beginning in Republic City, careful to talk in vague enough terms and avoid any reference to being the Avatar. When that time came, she had easy enough proof. Amon wasn't stopping her bending any more, in a ridiculous show of false trust, and she was going to take advantage of that.

When a shadow crossed the doorframe, she didn't even notice, so engrossed in talking to her—tentative, perhaps, maybe—new _friends_. Xue did, glancing up to see what caused it, and she met his eyes and gave him a luminous smile. "Hello there, sir. Wondering where your friend'd got to? She's been telling us stories, lovely ones too. Don't you fret, we'll give her back." Korra had jumped when Xue had cut her off, and turned around with dread. Which brother would it be?

Her stomach lurched. Amon. She licked her lips, heart beating slightly faster, and didn't say anything. When he spoke, it made her jump all over again. "Kanna," he said kindly—sounding so false, couldn't they hear how fake his genteelness was?—"you shouldn't run off like that. I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I didn't run off," she said. She heard herself speak slightly hoarsely, croaking a little all of a sudden. "I just wanted to talk to some people. I haven't got to know anyone here, and I thought I should." She thought that she was babbling a little, but it was hard to tell. Her perception of him was filling the whole room, but she couldn't look at him at all.

He smiled, and her stomach felt like it split in two. "Oh, that's different, then. I was just worried, you know me." _No, I don't_, she thought. _I don't know you at all. _ "Ready to go back? Arnook has started on the house again, and he refuses to do it alone."

"Okay," she said, as if from far away, this sham of normalness almost disrupting and rippling through the world around her. "Just let me say goodbye." Amon bowed oddly, lowly, to the women, and moved away from the doorway. Korra turned to her new friends—_friends_, maybe, perhaps, nearly—and gave them a weak smile. It was a shadow of what had been, and Xue was looking openly puzzled. She didn't say anything, however, as Korra gave her a furtive, almost shy hug. She simply returned it fiercely. Mei-li gave her a solid pat on the back, and Korra smiled a little more strongly. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"You're welcome to drop in any time," Xue said firmly. "I'm here most times, and Mei-li'll be floating around if you can't find me."

"Sure," Korra said, nearly happily, and then she turned about to leave. Amon's arm settled around her shoulder once more. "Stop doing that," she hissed, trying to shrug out from underneath—his grip was impressively strong—and failing. He looked down at her impassively, and then gave her a faux serious look.

"I was concerned about your whereabouts. I'm simply keeping you a little closer. I must say, I was surprised to find you in the company of the cook… consistently odd company that I find you in, Korra. Always a surprise."

"It's none of your business," she snapped. He was practically steering her, making her stumble as he changed direction without warning. Reminding her who was in charge in a ridiculous alpha male show of strength of something. And the worst was that her belly wouldn't stop _fizzing_, feeling so weird, she couldn't stop glancing at that hand draped elegantly down her arm, he was so _close._

Amon sighed. "Oh, but it is my business. What if you'd run away again? A pleasant surprise, this time, perhaps. I didn't think you'd acclimatise so quickly." There was an edge of suspicion there, and he was letting her see it.

"I just wanted some company that _wasn't you_. Is that so hard to understand?" He chuckled, and she felt it go through her. "Don't laugh. You took me away from my friends, my family, Naga. I'm making new friends. I don't want you interfering with it."

"Very well," he said, sounding incredibly amused. "Your friends are none of my business, then—"

"_Good_," Korra snapped, moodily, crossing her arms and trying to jab him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Your becoming friends with Tarrlok, however," he continued, and she froze, "I think I could argue _is_." He laughed again, quietly. "Friends is perhaps not the right word, but I think that you understand me." She opened her mouth to say _something_, though she didn't know what, and his arm curled lazily around so that his fingers lay across it for a second. He pressed down on her mouth, dragging the tips of his fingers softly. The message was clear, and then he withdrew his arm to simply lying around her shoulders once more, before anyone had noticed. "Don't make a scene. I know about you and Tarrlok. I confess to being surprised; you argue so much that I was convinced that you would never get along, but this _is_ better."

"Did you _watch_?" she asked, horror-struck. "You _didn't_. I am going to _pummel _you; I'm going to beat you to a pulp. Let me go, I'm going to _thrash_ you." Korra began to violently struggle. His grip simply tightened, and he steered them coolly into a deserted road, practically marching them until they had gone down an alley off that road, far away from anyone else. Amon deposited her—like she was a sack of potatoes or something, ugh, she just wanted to break him into little pieces—against a wall, and put his arms either side of her face, effectively pinning her in.

"Is it so unusual to keep tabs on one's brother?" he inquired, brushing back a strand of hair from her face. She nearly shivered to have him so close, and desperately tried to make sure he didn't see. She managed to slap his hand away; he caught it and held it, replacing it by her side and putting his back to frame her face.

"It is a little unusual to watch him—to watch him pretty much having—like that!" she spluttered. "Yeah, I'd say that was pretty unusual."

"You suspected I was there," he breathed, leaning in way too close.

"Only at the end! When you _came out of the bushes, _which was _really creepy_, by the way."

"So you claim that you didn't think about me once?"

"What—"

"If even Tarrlok has noticed the way that you look at me, don't you think that I've noticed as well?" _Well, uh-oh_. Noatak stroked the side of her face, gently, creepily, and she was too busy staring at him incredulously to do anything. "Even if you dislike me, even if you hate me, something in you is attracted to me." He leaned in until his lips were right by her ear, and she could hear him breathing closely and intimately. "I like that. I don't care if you hate me. I don't care if you loathe me. I'm not that excited by _your_ personality, either, Avatar, but I could learn to tolerate it, perhaps even to like it. If Tarrlok pleases you, but you're attracted to me, then, well… you don't have to choose. Out here, nobody has to know."

Korra thought vaguely of Tarrlok stuttering over _nothing, nobody, nobody has to—_and thought that perhaps she knew what he had been going to say. This was the most revolting, dismaying, awful mess.

To her surprise, Noatak leaned back out again, a horrible smile on his face. "That isn't an ultimatum," he said. "It's your choice, Avatar Korra." With a mocking bow, he straightened up and walked off by himself (leaving her alone in an _alley_, of all places). Korra scratched the back of her head, more out of habit and absent-minded desire to do _something_ than to scratch an actual itch. She hadn't thought that he was going to back off. And—she realised with a jolt that if he had been there the whole time—which, _ew_—he _must_ have heard about their plans to escape. He _must _have. And he didn't seem to care at all. He was that sure of himself.

Korra exhaled heavily, and rubbed at her temples. She thought that she could feel a headache coming on.


	8. EIGHT

hi guys what's up not me updating that's for sure

thanks to the people who reviewed this lately, you motivated my stationary butt

I will endeavour to update more often than even 6 months, especially since we're basically at the crux of the action anyway

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**EIGHT**

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Korra leaned reluctantly around the corner, attempting to avoid Noatak. Thankfully, it was just Tarrlok; she beckoned urgently to him. He was stood there like a lump, peering into a paint bucket that seemed to be empty. Slowly, mournfully, he set it down. The gentle click echoed across the room. She was acutely aware that Noatak could come upon them at any time. _Come on_, she mouthed. He scowled at her.

All the same, he crossed the room with a similar sense of urgency, coming to stand next to her. "What?" he murmured, looking her over. Korra went hot, and then a little cold, completely unable to read his expression. Embarrassed, she blushed and wheeled around and stalked out of the house. With a sigh, he followed, steps quiet and careful behind her. Not too close. They were both being careful not to get too close to one another. For some reason, their… tryst, she thought stiffly, their… encounter… had not improved relations between them. Now all she could do was blush, and all he could do was to look at her with that strangely hungry face, as if he just wanted to eat—

When they were a safe distance from the house but not amongst any trees where Noatak could sneak up on them, Korra stopped. _Good_, she thought, satisfied. They were far enough that he wouldn't be able to hear them without coming into sight. Tarrlok nearly bumped into her; his strides were longer than hers and he had gradually caught up with her as they walked, absent-mindedly closing the distance.

"What was so important?" he said, slightly waspish.

"What, you mean more important than paint?" she snapped, the defensiveness automatic. _Calm down_, she told herself. _You need to… organise stuff, and stuff. You probably can't do it without him. Well… No, no, it's better to do it with him—I mean, to have his help—ugh, whatever_. "Look," she added, when he subsided into angry, murky silence, "I'm—we need to work together. I think he knows—"

"He does know," Tarrlok interrupted her. Korra sighed over the fact that they both knew instantly who _he_ was. "He told me, he came to talk to me." Was that why Tarrlok was so petulant now? "He doesn't think that it's going to go anywhere."

Korra crossed her arms and rocked back on her feet, thinking. "Yeah. He didn't seem too bothered about it earlier. That's better, though, if he doesn't think that we're a threat. It means he won't see real effort coming…" Tarrlok was shaking his head as she trailed off. "What?" she demanded.

"Maybe this shouldn't," he began uncomfortably, and she catapulted right into wrath.

"Oh, _no you don't_," she said. "You said you would, and you're not changing your mind now, bub. Just because he said some nice things—that's what he _does_, that's how he fools everyone, you should _know_ that—doesn't mean that anything's really changed. We're in exactly the same place we were before. He's not going to change," she said, simply, cruelly. "You just want your brother back; it's _not going to happen_. We're going to get out of here. We need a plan."

Tarrlok had seemed to shrink before her eyes, growing smaller and more doleful as she spoke, until he looked quite miserable. When she finished he made some attempt to collect himself and stand upright, but that misery remained. Whether it was her that he loathed, whether it was himself, or Noatak, she had no idea. She didn't want to know. He exhaled, long and heavy, and rolled his neck as if to roll out his doubts. "Fine," he said acidly, smothering any sign of emotion besides anger.

"Do you have any ideas, then?" she asked, feeling that it was somewhat a let-down after her passionate tirade. He shook his head tersely, and she began to feel that he was going to be a very unpleasant partner. He seemed to sulk whenever she told him off. "None at all?" she pressed, still slightly hopeful. "Really? Well, okay. I was thinking that the people here need to know a little what's going on, so none of them get hurt. We need to take him back to Republic City with us." Tarrlok stirred a little, opening his mouth, and she cut him off. "We can't leave him here. He's a criminal, and he needs to go down. I'm the Avatar. It's my duty_. I_ can't leave him here."

"Be reasonable," he said, "we can't take him all the way back to Republic City with us. It's… how long? It's certainly overnight. Do you really think that we can keep Noatak subdued all that time?"

"You managed it with me," she said before she could think about that and realise that she probably wasn't going to like his response. Indeed, he chuckled a little, and his line of vision flicked up and down her again, almost contemptuously.

He even gave her a supercilious smile. "You might be the Avatar, _Avatar_, but you were still a teenage girl against two master waterbenders; waterbenders who could also bloodbend."

"I'm a waterbending master!" she protested. She _hated_ it when he was so condescending towards her.

His expression went further into the realm of contempt. "Technical mastery is one thing," he said. "A lifetime of bending is another entirely, _Avatar_. Don't be ridiculous. You might have learned from Katara, but you're still a child, essentially." She made a revolted face at that, and he frowned for a second.

"A child? Uh, well, then, that's… interesting." She couldn't quite get over her embarrassment enough to make the quip that she wanted to, but he knew what she was getting at, and his scowl deepened.

"In any case, this is irrelevant," he said, sweeping over his brief error by pretending it hadn't really happened. "You want to escape. I disagree that we need to bring Noatak with us. I feel that it would be far too difficult, and he does have certain… incriminating knowledge about the two of us." Korra experienced a physical shock for a second when she tried to think of her… thing with Tarrlok alongside her friends and family back in Republic City. It was… they'd never understand, they'd be disgusted—and they'd be _right_, which was worse—but surely it would be so strange to them that they wouldn't even believe it.

She pulled at some stray strands of hair thoughtfully. "Do you think they'd believe him? If it was our word against his… I mean, it'd sound so strange to anyone…"

"You mean that nobody could possibly believe that you would touch me," he said, a touch bitterly.

"Well. Yeah," she said awkwardly. He glowered, and she didn't look him directly in the eyes, but when he reached for her she didn't move away. She preferred this to them talking, where all they did was snipe and bicker and verge on shouting and she had time to feel ashamed and embarrassed about what she was doing with a much older, irritating man. When this happened, her thoughts ran around in circles but they tended to be okay circles. This was a way to grab power back.

When his hands slid down her dress, she took a deep, shuddering breath and reached up to run her hands through his hair. "Of course," he murmured, leaning down. "You'd be embarrassed to tell your friends about _this_"—one hand began opening her dress with easy precision, sliding down her stomach and right down to where she was beginning to feel uncomfortably hot again—"and this"—his finger began to rub, insistent and sweet, and her fingers clutched, wound into his hair—"or _this_"—he nibble softly at her ear for a moment, and kissed her, fierce and insistent, and then went back to talking in her ear—"you'd never, ever take me home to your parents because the very thought of it horrifies you. That's why nobody would believe you; you can barely believe it yourself, that you'd _stoop_ to doing this with me—but I know that it makes you feel good. I know..."

"Oh, _shut up_," she groaned, writhing a little and unable to reconcile herself with how much she liked it when he talked like that. Instead, he focused his efforts on her once more until she was practically melting, panting, making sounds that were horrible to her ears and trying to shut them out. He'd managed to find better ways, better places, and he stayed just on the cusp, staying just where it felt best. His other hand was moving, roving, teasing. She knew when she was approaching something good and something big, and she began to eagerly anticipate that feeling.

Tarrlok stopped, and smoothly and calmly removed his limbs from her clothes. "Perhaps the embarrassment should stop here," he said coolly, and she stared at him, that feeling quickly fading to a dull ache.

"I—that's not _fair_," she said, hearing a whine creeping in there. "You can't just start and then—randomly—stop like that. You did that on purpose!" He gave her an archly raised eyebrow and a superior smile.

"You're not childish at all, of _course_. But I meant what I said about the embarrassment stopping now. I'm not getting entangled with you when I know that you can never give me what I want. Besides, this was a mistake in the first place." Korra couldn't help blushing to be called a _mistake_, and it felt like she went red all the way down to her toes. "This only happened because it was born in extraordinary circumstances. If you've developed some sort of attachment to us as your captors then you are dealing with it yourself. If you're just playing games, then I'm going to think twice about assisting you in any plans to get back to Republic City. You can leave my brother and me _alone_."

Korra thought that her mouth might have dropped open and, numbly, checked. Yup, her mouth was open. She shut it manually, and continued to stare at him. He looked shifty, ill at ease, and defiant. She thought that he might be aware that what he had just said was an enormous amount of nonsense, but didn't want to be aware of it. (Playing games, as if she was just toying with him for fun; all she wanted was to get back home and to her loved ones and maybe just to have been pushed over that edge, but she'd have to do that herself now and there was no privacy in the house.) "What?" she managed blankly, after much deliberation. "What did you just say?"

His eyes narrowed, and he looked still defiant but a tad weak for a second; he wasn't truly convinced even of his own thoughts. "I know that you can't be choosing this," he said simply. "You don't hate me, perhaps, but you certainly don't like me. There is nothing in me that would make you choose me." There was a horrible lack of self-esteem in his words and appearance, dressed up with pride and stiffness, and Korra suspected that in the period of time that he had been out of her sight Noatak had got to him, because this was an extraordinarily sudden turnaround from this morning. "So it's either some sort of psychosis, or you're playing games," he finished, staring at her severely.

"None of the above," she said angrily. "And if you have to know, then—well, in the start it was a bit… weird, but—I—there is a reason and you know it, that you make me—that you, that I, it feels good," she managed to spit out, her mortification clear.

"Well," he said sardonically. "That makes it much clearer. You're in this for physical gratification. My thanks." It was, perhaps, the way that he looked so hurt that made her guilt rise like vomit in her throat until it seemed to be choking her. She looked at the floor, wrestling with anger and guilt that in turn created more anger, and her face twisted into a strange frown. What had he expected? Really, truly? Whatever he wanted from her, she was sure that she couldn't give. She didn't think that anyone could. She didn't _want_ to give it. She hadn't asked for this.

When his expression shifted into wounded smugness, she snapped from her momentary peace, and actually came out with what she was thinking. "What did you expect?" she asked, a little deflated.

"Just what I deserve, I suppose," he said, bitter and twisted. Then he surprised her by crossing his arms, sighing, and looking her dead in the eye and maintaining contact. Korra looked away first. "Do you have a plan?"

"What?" she said, startled.

"_Do_ _you_ have a _plan_?" He enunciated patronisingly enough to make her bristle. She made herself breathe and stay calm. Was he… still going to help her? The way he changed his mind so often, so quickly, left her dizzy.

Korra tugged at her hair, and began to pace as she spoke. Anything to keep her in motion was good right now. "Well, like I said, I think we need to take him back to Republic City with us. He's a criminal, and he's not very stable, and I'm worried for the people here if we have a big fight without them knowing. They could help us," she said earnestly, pausing for a moment. Tarrlok looked dubious, but shrugged his assent. She continued. "So if we convince people that he's dangerous then we can evacuate the people or they can held to get him somewhere there won't be damage, and we take him back to Republic City with us. Do you still have money?"

"Noatak keeps the money. But I can get it from him."

"Okay, good. So… we're going to need to fight him." Tarrlok looked mildly pained, but not surprised. She supposed that he must have known that this was coming. "Are you… if… would you be ready to bloodbend him?" Korra asked. "If it was necessary, if he was hurting other people, if he tried to bloodbend you. I mean, I hope it won't be necessary, but… it might be, and I need to know if I can rely on you to or not."

The expression of mild pain deepened to full on unhappiness, and Tarrlok shifted uncomfortably. He opened and closed his mouth several times, so far from the self-assured politician she'd known in Republic City. "I don't know," he said finally, difficultly. "When I bloodbent you, that was… being pushed over the edge. Noatak's always been a much better bender than I am. He's a prodigy. He was a prodigy back when we were children. Now, he will be a true master, and he's learned to fight without bending as well. I don't know that… I could ever defeat him." He paused, and she waited before she spoke again to see if he would volunteer more. When he was truthful and vulnerable and painful, she couldn't look at him at all. "If I have to, I will bloodbend," he said, with a heavy certainty that made her shiver, inexplicably, all over. "But so will Noatak, and he will be better. Is there any way that you can access the Avatar State?"

Korra shook her head miserably. "I don't think so," she said. "I can't control it. And when Avatars can't control the Avatar State—bad things happen. I know it happened to Aang. If you go into the Avatar State without being able to control then it's like—instinct, an instinctual reaction, and instinct isn't always good. I don't think there's time to master it without a teacher, with no idea what I'm doing, without Noatak finding out. He _knows_. He knows that we're planning something, and he doesn't care."

Tarrlok laughed, briefly, bleakly. "Why would he? Every little thing he says sends my head spinning, and you're a captive, and incredibly young besides. We're not exactly a formidable pair. At this point, Noatak has nothing to worry about."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Korra said sourly.

He shrugged. "It's true." He had really, really bad self-esteem, she decided. No confidence in himself. It would really help if he could actually think that they could achieve something, because Korra was determined enough to and she didn't want him being a weak link.

"It doesn't have to be," she snapped. "Maybe you could have some confidence in yourself, yeah? We're doing this. We're going home. Back to Republic City. Look, if it helps, I think that you can do it, all right?"

He looked guardedly at her. "Why?"

"Because… I think you can?" she said, confused.

"If you're just trying to give me a motivational speech, then stop," he said. "I don't need you to patronise me."

"Well, it would shake things up a bit," she muttered snidely. "But there wasn't really an ulterior motive to that? I just, I do think that you can do it, okay? I mean, you're a pretty powerful bender, and there are two of us to one of him. If we have a good plan then there's no reason that we can't do it… I think so anyway," she added defensively when he just kept staring suspiciously as if trying to see right through her. After a long, long moment he muttered something so quietly that she missed it. "Sorry?" she asked. "What? What did you say?"

"I said THANK YOU," he barked, not looking at her.

"_Oh_," she said, surprised. "Oh. Well, uh. You don't need to say thanks—it's just my opinion, and… uh." To her horror, she was turning red, _again_, and she turned away so that he couldn't see, unaware that Tarrlok had done something similar. They stood, back to back, embarrassment occupying the space between the two of them. Korra put her hands to her heated cheeks, confounded, and pulled them down into an exaggerated frown, grimacing. Anything like this _was not allowed_. It was ridiculous. And not allowed.

"So…" she said, when the silence had once more become unbearably awkward. "What do we need to do now?" She managed to make herself turn back to him, and began pacing once more to work off the frenzied energy that seemed to have possessed her since the morning.

"We convince key people that Noatak is dangerous. That might prove difficult, since they seem to look to him as a saviour of sorts. He's offering them a way out of their poverty, after all." Tarrlok tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "Is there anyone you've noticed in particular that doesn't seem to trust Noatak?"

Korra shrugged. "That one guy who tried to convince the others not to take us prisoner. Aside from that… um. I maybe made some friends today, but I don't know if they trust me that much. Probably not. But they seem nice, and if I told them that I was in danger and proved that I was the Avatar… I think that's pretty clear, don't you? Can they argue with the Avatar?"

"I would imagine not," Tarrlok said dryly, unable to pass up a cheap shot. "Presenting them with irrefutable evidence would probably help; a bending display should do it, and then yes, I think they would have to believe you. Who are these friends?"

"The lady who's in charge of the cooking—Xue—and her friend, she's called Mei-li. They're really nice."

"Not a little old to be your friends?" Korra gave him a look, which he interpreted correctly and shrugged at, seeming resigned. "Either way, make sure that you think that you can trust them before you truly confide in them. We don't need a failed attempt. Noatak doesn't believe that we're truly serious about this… He thinks that he has me wrapped around his little finger," Tarrlok said grimly. He looked, for the first time, fairly strong. He was standing up, not slouching into himself like he did when he was upset or weak. He looked determined. "I mean to show him that his words don't work on me any time. I'm not going to follow my big brother blindly any more. No longer. Something must change."

Korra gave him an overly aggressive slug to the shoulder. Tarrlok staggered a few steps, hissing, and rubbed at his wounded shoulder with a look that was more irritated resignation than anything else. "Should I even ask what that was?" he inquired, rotating his shoulder with some care. "Or do I just chalk it up to your general inexplicableness?"

"It was to make you feel better," she said, already regretting it. It had been an instinct sort of thing. She'd been right to trust the instinct that said that instincts were not the most reliable.

"Let's assume in the future that my problems cannot be solved by punching me, shall we? I think that would be a pleasant ground rule."

"Maybe if I punched you hard enough your head would screw on properly and you'd start seeing things properly," she retorted, flailing out to give him a peevish blow on the other shoulder.

"_Witty_," he snapped. "Of course you'd think that violence was the answer to everyone else's problems as well as your own."

"Remember that metal box? And the bloodbending? Yeah, I'm not the only one who resorts to violence, am I?" she said triumphantly, poking her finger in his face vehemently. "_You_ do just the same."

"And yet you seemed so offended when I said that we were alike. It seems you've come around."

Neither of them said anything for at least a minute. Korra stared at her feet and Tarrlok squinted off into the distance vaguely. "Okay, whatever," she muttered, but there was no real venom in it. "Sure, I'm violent and all, ha, ha, ha. I still don't think we're that alike, but whatever. You try and find some people that you think don't like Noatak so much, and I'll see if I think my… friends will trust me, or believe me anyway. Then… we'll have to decide how we're going to fight Noatak… If we're gonna team up or anything. I'm not really used to working with other people, except for pro-bending—and he ruined _that_, so I haven't had any practice in a while. But I guess we need to work together. So… truce?" she said reluctantly, sticking out her hand for him to shake.

After a moment of hesitation, he sighed and shook her hand. His warmth was comforting for a moment, and then he withdrew his hand awkwardly and smoothed down imaginary creases in his clothing. "We should probably get back," he said, and she nodded. "Noatak… well, it's unlikely that he'll wonder where we've gone, but it's suspicious if we spent too much time together. We should be antagonistic in public. Argue." He looked suspiciously at her, expecting her to make some sarcastic comment. Korra just shrugged. She was beginning to feel faintly embarrassed about how they always launched into childish bickering. It wasn't satisfying now… just—she didn't really want to argue any more. If they could get along a little bit, then this would be easier. And then she wouldn't have to have anything to do with him ever again once they got back to Republic City and this ridiculous infatuation or physical attraction or whatever it was could go die in a hole.

_Yes_.

"Yes," she said aloud. "Let's go back, then." Back they went, into that ruined house, where that ruined man waited for the two of them. _Not much longer_, Korra thought. Soon she was getting out. And… it couldn't come too soon, because this had got far too complicated for her some time ago. She wanted everything to be simple again. To go home.

* * *

She was kind of beginning to like teaching. It wasn't her calling or anything, and she'd probably be dead bored if she had to do it day in and day out, but while it was novel and strange it was honestly pretty fun. Well, when people behaved it was, but Korra wasn't above a light clip round the head for those who misbehaved.

When presented with problems, her first instinct was still to get very annoyed at them, try and hit them, and then think them through in the embarrassed aftermath. She was getting better! Sometimes she would just glare at people instead of yelling at them. It did seem to go down better, she had noted grudgingly. Xue watched with amusement whatever she did, but the others were annoyed and displeased if she was… blunt. She was finding it easier and easier to give out compliments, though.

"Can you stretch any further?" she asked one man. He was amongst the surprisingly large number of people who really, really tried. She had found that it was gratifying when they struggled to push themselves onwards. Still, his face was going slightly red, and that couldn't be good… "Actually, it's probably better if you don't. Does it hurt a lot?" A vague, squeaky noise emerged from his throat. "Okay, take it down a notch," she said. "You don't want to give yourself an injury. You need to take it slow! You're doing just fine for the moment."

With a pained gasp, he pretty much fell out of the stance down onto his knees. "Yeah, you definitely need to take it a bit slower," she said. "I know you wanna be strong now, but you've got to listen to your body and… uh, yeah, listening to your body is good. Do that." She'd heard herself slipping into teacherly mode, like the old fuddy-duddies who had taught her, and it freaked her out. A lot. It hadn't been so long ago that she'd been railing at them and telling them that they didn't run her life, right? Soon she'd come back to them and she'd never ever complain about another lesson again.

"I know," he said ruefully. "It's just… to see all the things that you do, all the things that benders done, it's hard not to feel… stupid. Left behind, like."

"You're not stupid," Korra offered, not entirely sure what else to say. "I mean, I've said it before, we've been training since we were tiny. It's not your fault that you weren't."

"I guess." They fell silent, surrounded by the various noises of other groups working, fighting, falling over and laughing and talking. The noises of people, people that she didn't know; their lives would go on long after she left this strange little settlement in the middle of the desert. Generations would come and go without seeing anything of the innovations of the city. That… made her head hurt.

Korra gave him a stiff pat on the shoulder. "Just keep trying," she said. "That's what important, I think. You've got to do your best." It all came out so trite and stupid, but she honestly did mean it. It was kind of humbling to see how hard they worked for things that came so easily to her; sure, she had worked for them, but she'd never found them that difficult. Her history was one of achievement—the occasional tantrum when it didn't go her way, perhaps—and triumph. She'd been provided with exactly what she needed to excel…

From the side lines, Xue gave her a warm smile, and Korra returned it tentatively. _Will you believe me_, she wondered. She barely knew this woman, and Noatak was powerful and charismatic. Why would they believe the girl over the man who was trying to improve their lives? In public, Korra and Tarrlok had only ever gone along with Noatak's plans. To spring this massive secret onto people who were essentially strangers surely couldn't go well… Why should they trust her?

Xue's smile wavered, and her expression shifted into something more thoughtful. Korra looked away, embarrassed, and cleared her throat. "Okay!" she called. "New stretch!"

* * *

She was watching the sunset when, out of the corner of her eye, she first caught sight of Noatak. He had come to stand quietly at the bottom of the stairs. Korra didn't turn around. Whatever game he was playing, she was going to be a reluctant partner.

He waited, leaning against the wasted wooden pole at the very bottom. Korra pushed back against the wall, and for just a second half closed her eyes. The sunset distorted with the tiny amount of light she was letting in, and everything bled red. That blurred vision of the world was far too unpleasant to look through for very long—all she could think was blood—and she returned grimly to waiting for one of them to break the stand-off. To her surprise, after a short thirty seconds or so he smiled small, tightly amused, and disappeared.

Frowning, Korra turned, not quite believing that she was lucky enough for him to just leave like that—and yeah, she wasn't. With frightening precision, he took the short run up to the broken stairs and in that bizarre, frightening way, flew up them as if he was light as air. He avoided all the gaps and the weak spots, and in far too short a time was right next to her, towering up above. In an instinctive reaction, she'd gone sprawling and rolled into a crouch, ready to jump up if she needed to defend herself.

"What do you want?" she demanded, muscles tensed. Of course she'd known how strong and fast he was, but somewhere in here she had really believed that up here was a sort of sanctuary; that they really couldn't get up the stairs. It was… unpleasant to have that proved wrong.

He looked down at her, expression utterly opaque. "You spend an undesirable amount of time up here alone," he said blithely.

"Yeah, well I don't exactly want the company," Korra sniped. Warily, she allowed herself to relax a little. She would never be truly at ease around Noatak, and that was probably for the best, but if she stayed like for this too long she was going to cramp up. "You can go away."

"I could," he said, not moving.

"That actually means _go away_."

Instead, he sat down near her. Not close enough that she felt compelled to move away, but close enough that he could easily reach over and grab her. She was disturbingly well acquainted with how far that distance actually was. Korra tensed again. "Like it or not, we are living together," he said, adjusting his clothing fussily as he settled down. He sat ramrod straight, legs crossed with his arms draped over the inside of his thighs, hands dangling from his knees. "Now that your initial fascination with escape has passed and I've made it clear that I don't mind if you pursue my brother, I feel that we should try to get along. I am well aware that in the past we haven't been good company to each other, but I underestimated the strength of your relations with Tarrlok. Being estranged from his older brother can't help but to undermine those relations.

"I considered it, and I believe that we can rise above this pettiness—at least for Tarrlok's sake."

Korra just looked at him, baldly irritated. "So that shoving me about in the alley the other day. That was just pettiness? You're totally over that now?"

Noatak rubbed at his chin thoughtfully and gave her a smile nearly as fake as Tarrlok's politician simper. "I think we can both agree that of late everyone has been strained. It has been a difficult time, and we have been adjusting. I'm sure that with care, we _can_ have warm relations, if not truly affectionate."

"No, really," she said sourly, her mouth twisting unhappily. "That shoving about in the alley was just for fun? Like, you were tired? You were over-tired, and 'strained', and you thought a good solution was to tell me creepy things about _watching us from a bush_ and threaten me. And now you've decided that you want to be friends. Okay." Korra crossed her arms and gave him her best stink-eye. He didn't react in the slightest, keeping that disgustingly diplomatic and gently blank look on his face.

"I realise that it's a large ask at this moment in time," he said, leaning forwards slightly. Accordingly, Korra leaned back, and he stopped, but she saw a slight twitch about his mouth, pulling up for a second—not that she was watching his mouth—perhaps with that sardonic amusement, perhaps he thought she was pathetic, perhaps even he didn't think what he was saying sounded at all logical and reasonable. "So I decided that I would make an effort to extend the hand of peace."

"Remember that time when you ambushed me at midnight at the memorial with all your followers? You're real good at the hand of peace, aren't you?"

"I recognise that this will take time," he continued, as if she had never spoken, "and I am willing to put the effort in. The… ball is in your court, as it were, Korra"—she couldn't help shuddering at him using her name—"if you would like to start the long path towards acclimatisation. You have begun by making friends, which is of course commendable, but we are the people that you live with and I would expect some effort at home. You could begin by joining in the refurbishment of the house _without_ constantly complaining. I'm sure that Tarrlok would appreciate that, since it is his pet project."

"Um, _no_," she said, outraged. "You can't just do this, make out like you're giving me a choice when really there's no choice at all—you _kidnapped_ me, why does _everyone_ keep trying to forget that? Why do you keep thinking that _I'll _forget it?"

The first she saw of the switch flipping was a slight twitch in his steady facial expression, and she had a moment to think _uh-oh_ before he had reached over and pressed that spot by her jaw for a few seconds. Just as she began to feel a sickly spin and brought her hands up feebly to fend him off, he calmly withdrew and resumed his position. Korra felt… _awful_. Her head hurt—after just that much, a few _seconds_—and her stomach was roiling extraordinarily unpleasantly. She lurched forward and hit the floor. The energy to remain sitting had drained sickly out of her.

"Uh," she mumbled nauseously. Her forehead nearly brushed the splintered boards below her, and she retched dryly and uselessly a couple of times. Her hair trailed languorously, escaping its bounds, and she forced herself to take deep breaths. In and out, she told herself. Brutal murder could come later. Beating him to a pulp would _definitely_ happen later. She would punch him so hard—but first she would quiet down her stomach so that she didn't throw up all over her sanctuary. That sounded good.

Dizzily and furiously, she looked back up at him to meet that same stupid expression again. He was just going to pretend that whatever protests she had weren't happening. Every time she voiced dissent, he ignored it or… dealt with it. By making her so sick that she could barely sit up. Ugh.

"So," he began pleasantly. "Do you have a favourite food?"

* * *

Korra crouched down where Tarrlok was sat, lost in thought. "I can't stay here any longer," she said abruptly. Utterly startled out of any reflection, he looked up at her and frowned.

"What happened to waiting?"

"I can't wait any more." She leaned forward until their noses practically touched, and stared right into his eyes to try and give him some idea of the seriousness of this. "Noatak is trying to make small talk and be my friend."

Tarrlok frowned. "What?"

"He's trying to be my friend," she said. "He made me tell him what my favourite food was, and my favourite colour, and if I had any brothers or sisters." Tarrlok's face made a weird spasm, and Korra realised when he made a faint wheezing noise that he was trying not to laugh. "What?" she demanded. "Do you think that this is a joke? He _hit me_ when I didn't do what he wanted me to." That shut him up. Tarrlok went silent and unhappy again.

Korra felt a pang for a second; she wasn't sure how many times she'd actually seen him genuinely laugh. Oh. Once, properly. It had been while they'd been having… while they'd been doing… well. Despite herself, she'd felt her heart rate pick up when she'd seen his face crease into amusement so strong that he'd attempted to suppress it. It was… a shame that Tarrlok's life seemed to be endless unhappiness. Perhaps when they returned to Republic City—but no, of course not, he had disappeared when the city had needed him the most, and if she told people about his role in her capture then he would never be welcomed back into society.

It had not really occurred to her that she held his future in his hands if—when—they were successful in returning to the place that had become a home for the both of them.

"I—" she began again. Almost instantaneously, she stopped in the knowledge that she hadn't actually figured out what she wanted to say. It had started from some misguided desire to wipe that wounded, damaged look from his face—but that would mean lessening what Noatak had done to her, and she didn't want to do that at all. She was angry about what Noatak had done, and she hurt. However much it made her feel—oddly guilty, small, horrible—bad to see that look on his face, she could deal with it. "Look, I just really can't take it any more. I'm going to run away right now, or you can help me. Tomorrow. I won't wait longer." He looked away, silent for a long time. Korra waited. She couldn't leave them here, really. She needed him to come with and to help her. Hopefully, the baiting of a deadline would stir him to movement…

They sat there for what felt like far too long a time, thoughts flitting over Tarrlok's face. It was a worryingly extensive decision process. Finally, finally, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, covering his face with his hands. Korra watched, not too excited about that. What was he doing? Did that mean that he was going to say no?

"Okay," he said, very quietly, muffled from in between his hands.

Korra exhaled heavily, surprised at the relief she was feeling. It frightened her how invested she was in him now. If he had said no… she had had no back up plan for if he had said no. "Okay, good," she said, trying not to bait him with how pleased she was when he was clearly exhausted and unhappy. "Tomorrow after training, you get Noatak back to the house. I'll tell the villagers. Then we'll fight him, and he'll go down. Sound good?"

"No," he said sourly. He met her eyes ever so briefly, and then looked away with a heavy sigh. "I'll do it, though, but don't try and convince me that this is a good thing."

"Fine," she said, undeniably stung. "Whatever. As long as you don't get any second thoughts." That was her biggest worry, really. He was so… fragile. Would he last until tomorrow morning? What if he caved and told Noatak in between now and then? "I'm trusting you," she added awkwardly, after a long pause. "I mean… I… if you tell him—then—"

"I'm doing this," he interrupted her. "I can't turn back now. I won't."

"Good. Okay. So… see you tomorrow, I guess."

Tarrlok didn't reply, already staring off into space as if she wasn't there at all. Korra swallowed, trying to press down the fear that was rising up through her at the prospect of really going out and there and taking Noatak down—oh _god_, what was she doing? What were they doing—with a dodgy and unreliable partner. Partner… it was odd to think of Tarrlok as her partner. They hadn't worked together since the raid on the Equalists.

"We make a good team," he'd said. She hoped that they could be a good team again.

* * *

"Rise and shine," Noatak said. Korra jerked awake from her space on the floor, and looked upwards in horror to him looming over her.

"What?" she said blearily, rubbing at her eyes. Was this a dream? She'd had terrible dreams all night and slept awfully; Noatak and his mask had figured heavily, and that room of hers that was beginning to become slightly fuzzy around the edges, Equalists and shadowy people… "Go _away_, it's too _early_. Seriously? Mornings…"

"Your duties await you," he said sternly, giving her a light nudge with his foot.

"Don't you kick me," she growled.

"I didn't kick you. I'll ask you to get up one more time, and then I'll leave you."

"You do that," she mumbled, covering her eyes.

"Now, come on, get up." A cold breath of air swept across her, and he hefted her up off the ground. This elicited a startled yelp, and she kicked him for good measure. "Behave, Korra."

"Don't you tell me to behave!"

"Sometimes you are so astonishingly childish," he mused. "Your charges await you, and you laze in bed."

"Bed?" she demanded, sourly, brushing off the splinters and dirt from her damaged clothing. "_Bed_?" She gestured wildly to the floor that she'd slept on: the bare, splintered, awful, floor.

"It's homely, I'll grant you," he said, "but it's… home."

"Home—" she began, nearly launched into anger, and then she stopped to think. "Homely? Home? Was that … was that a joke?" He gave her a smile, wry and strangely subtle, and shrugged. "Hey!" she called. He was making his way to the stairs, walking away from her and ending the conversation on his terms _again_, and she annoyed and tired of that. "Since when do you have a sense of humour?" she asked suspiciously.

"Korra, really. Your paranoia is astounding." Okay, she was on board now. This was the disgustingly affable pretence he liked to put on. If she went along with it he wouldn't get dangerous. "Come along for breakfast. I believe Tarrlok should be on his way back with it as we speak." Had he talked to Xue at all? She couldn't help wondering. Had he just acted as if everything was normal? What even was normal for them?

"Good, I'm starving," she grumbled.

"Korra," he said firmly. He kept saying her name, and she didn't like it. "Don't complain. You've never had to go without. These people live on the borderline of true starvation. You are just hungry." She really hated when he made points that were actually reasonable. They made her feel twice as worse, because they were coming from him, a.k.a. the World's Worst Person.

"Yeah, whatever." Noatak caught her arm as she brushed past him, and held her there for a moment. His eyes, narrowed and suddenly stormy, fixed their gaze onto her. She stood under that scrutiny for roughly ten seconds before it became incredibly uncomfortable and she caved. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm a brat. I take everything for granted. Happy now?"

He sighed. "I maintain that one day you will achieve some level of maturity. That day doesn't seem to be coming any time soon, but I hold onto hope…"

"Let's just go to breakfast," she said. Downstairs, she heard the front door shriek into action. That must be Tarrlok back with the food, and a reason for this awful conversation to end. Korra hurried down the stairs, going as fast as she dared within their reasonable capacity, hopping away from Noatak. He followed as soon as she was a safe distance away, making it look hatefully easy. Tarrlok had already disappeared into another room. She couldn't really blame him for not wanting to deal with the two of them right now.

She really was hungry and the smell, however poor compared to Republic City fare, was making her stomach rumble awfully loudly. It couldn't hurt to be as far from Noatak as possible, either, so she followed the smell quickly through the house. She looked around her as she went. It was an odd thought that this would never be finished. They had genuinely made some progress on this wreck of a house during the time they'd been cooped up within it. It didn't groan so much anymore; at the very least it was structurally sound now.

It remained cold, though, the mark of a place that wasn't really a home. Or one that lacked heating. Could be either, really.

Tarrlok had set out three portions of food on a wasted surface that wasn't as dirty as the rest. He turned his back to her as soon as she walked into the room, and it irritated her how wounded she felt at that. He didn't talk to her, simply indicating one portion. Mouth twisted in displeasure, she grabbed it and walked right back out of the kitchen. She nearly walked into Noatak, who dodged neatly and watched her stalk off in a temper.

Of course it was absurd that she was hurt at him being so dismissive towards her. She hated him, right? At the very least she wasn't exactly a fan of his. But they were working together, and it didn't bode well for today if he was already sulking and not talking to her. Partners needed to _communicate_. He wasn't communicating. Korra sighed, grumpy, and dug into her mediocre breakfast. She needed energy to teach those talentless dunderheads out there.

She buried the guilt for thinking of them like that, and shovelled food into her mouth. _Home_, she chanted to herself. _Home, home, home_.


	9. NINE

Author's note at the end, this time!

* * *

**NINE**

* * *

When they were finished with breakfast and about to leave the house, she waited for them. The cool of the morning washed over her where she stood in the doorway, looking into the decrepit wreck that would never be finished. She felt a faint pang. Rather uncomfortable with that, her first reaction was hurrying to tell herself to stop, to make that feeling go away—but, reluctantly, she let go a little. It was… okay to feel a bit weird. This house had seen a lot of weird. She needed to be more focused and not fighting with herself today.

For the first time, she wondered who had lived here before Noatak and Tarrlok had tried to make it their own. Who had they been? Where were they now? It must have been a long time ago that this house was lived in. She tried to imagine it as it might have been or could have been. Closing her eyes, she started with the basics; she painted the walls a light green—when in the Earth Kingdom, after all—clean, fresh, and the floor was laid with new, smooth wood like back in Republic City. The window frames would be painted too, with shutters. No glass, because they wouldn't have glass out here; maybe they wouldn't have wooden floors, either, but they definitely wouldn't have glass windows. Some Earth Kingdom furniture to fill the empty spaces… she didn't know what that would look like, but thinking of the people that she had met while she was here, she imagined some sort of stocky, functional chairs and tables, arranged to form a circle where everyone could see one another. She managed to hold it all together in her mind for about five seconds…

It was no good. She opened her eyes again and looked at the old, warped reality in front of her. Whatever she might have wanted it to be, for all of a second, it was too radically different to ever be changed. Korra cradled the tiny amount of sadness in her chest, and was surprised to feel a wave of relief crash over and wash away the sadness. She could see that this would never have worked. Not with her actively fighting it, not with the two of them left to their own devices. Never.

Noatak emerged from the old kitchen, carrying the waste of their breakfast, and raised an eyebrow to see her still standing there. She met his gaze, quite sure that he suspected or even knew what they were up to. Why didn't he say anything? "This is unusual," he said, slightly amused. Korra scowled and turned on her heels to walk away. She'd waited out of some stupid sentimentality, and now the moment had passed and she was going to go on her own. A hand closed around her arm and pulled her back, and she rolled her eyes as she turned gracefully right back to look into an affable smile. "Humour me."

"No," she said.

He shrugged. "As you like it. I thought something might have changed since our conversation, but evidently not. Go on ahead." Without hesitation, Korra moved away from him. She could see that he was gearing up to say something else and she didn't want to hear it. The silence stretched out behind her for a long moment; it passed into too long, and the potential for what he might have said evaporated. Instead, he leaned back into the house—she heard the creaking of the doorway—and called to Tarrlok that they were leaving. Korra listened carefully, but only heard a heavily muffled response, unable to make out any words.

She turned her face to the sky, and felt the heat on her face, even this early. The seasons didn't seem to affect this place. It had been snowing when they had left Republic City. The desert seemed unchangeable, except at night, when the temperatures plummeted right down to winter in Republic City. _Home_. Maybe for a while she'd go back to her parents. They were always where she'd felt like home truly was, when she'd lived in the compound. Had they missed her? They _must_ have missed her.

A quick look behind her showed that Noatak and Tarrlok were probably still at the house, or far enough behind not to matter. Korra stopped, and stood there, and stretched just to feel the joy of tension and relief in her body. She grinned, and set off at a run to take care of her unwieldy charges.

She arrived not even really out of breath, much to her pleasure, and bounced into the circle of waiting adults. They looked up at her with some surprise. Some of them looked wary, others pleased, and some were just not quite awake. She beamed round at all of them, fizzing with the sudden influx of energy coursing through her, and stretched her arms up over her head long and luxuriously. "Right," she said mischievously, "who's ready to get in shape?" The general lack of response and outright laughter didn't bother her in the slightest. "Up on your feet!" she told a few remarkably sleepy looking people, sprawled on the floor. They clambered up to standing, long suffering expressions identically pasted onto each face.

"Today, if some of you want to, we're going to work up from a brisk walk to a gentle jog," she said. If she was going to leave, she wanted to show them what to do before she abandoned them. That would be a regret, however small. Noatak had promised to aid these people, and she had resigned herself to going through with it, even finding it kind of enjoyable, and these people deserved the tools to improve their lives. It… wasn't fair that some people got all the tools that they needed to succeed with, and others lived in places like this, nearly starving and having to steal to survive. It wasn't right. And honestly, she did want to help. But the world needed her. It couldn't have two Avatars in a row disappear. This had been no Hundred Years War, but she dreaded to think what might have happened back in Republic City by now.

"Everybody after me!" she called, setting forth at a pace that was a little more than some of the bleary people could quite manage. In view of that, she slowed down. Xue nearly went past her, still speeding along at the original pace that Korra had set, and hung back to fall into step with her. Wherever Xue went, it was probable that Mei-li would follow, and sure enough, the other woman emerged from the crowd. Briefly, she rested a hand on Xue's shoulder; a look went between the two of them, and Xue gave Mei-li's hand a gentle squeeze.

Xue yawned, wide and unrestrained, and gave a sleepy smile. "Every morning I'd swear it's harder and harder to turf this bod out of bed. One of these days I'm not gonna bother; I'll get my underlings to start the cooking instead. Of course," she said, lightly teasing, "guess who's the real problems? Your lot's always in at the crack of dawn for their food. Nobody else's up so early!" Korra didn't really know what to say to that but, luckily, Xue always had something ready if the other party was reticent. "So," she said, still playful, "how fit d'you think we are, by now? Are we gonna be ready to take on the big city by the end of the month?" Korra scratched at her head, trying to come up with a diplomatic answer. Xue laughed and gave her a generous whack on the shoulder. "I see, miss. Maybe by the end of the month we'll be fit for the chop, is that it? We'd make a nice dish, with some meat on our bones, and that's it. Well, it's a sad world, I tell you."

Korra frowned; she enjoyed Xue's chatter, but something was niggling at her. "When is the end of the month?" she asked.

Xue shrugged. "We don't really do months out here. We haven't got much contact with the rest of the world, most of us don't bother. Especially if you're a cook and other people bring you the supplies, no point knowing when time passes. Could be tomorrow, for all I know. Got a birthday coming up?"

"Not exactly…" She just wanted to know how much time had passed, she thought wistfully. Time had sneaked past her, in great big lumps and aching stretches, and it had piled up somewhere along the line in an unknown quantity. "It doesn't matter," she said. Turning back to her ungainly herd of people, she raised her voice to call to the rest of them. "We're going to pick up the pace!" A chorus of groans resounded, and she grinned. "Come on! Let's go!" She broke into a jog that felt awfully slow, and saw the puppies lurch into their own versions. Summoning her courage, she turned to Xue and Mei-li. "Could I talk to you afterwards?" she asked. "I have something I'd… something I'd like to tell you."

Xue's eyebrows rose, and then drew together as she looked thoughtful. "I been wondering," she said, quietly, in between considerable pants of effort. Korra slowed a little with the jogging. "Course," she said, affectionately, "tell us whatever you like. You're always welcome, turtle-duck."

Korra smiled at her, feeling unbearably hopeful, almost bursting with the desire to spit it out right now— "Thanks," she said instead. "Really, I mean it. Thanks."

* * *

"Don't seem to be anyone here," Xue said, looking around the corner of the cookhouse. "If there is I'll kick 'em out, but I think they'll all be on a break." She snorted. "They're always on a break." Korra followed her in, and Mei-li brought up the rear. "We should be able to talk private—I figured that was what you were after, and, well, if you weren't then we're in private anyway and we can have a good gossip. Sit yourself down, I'll check in the kitchen." Korra dragged out a chair and threw herself into it, feeling a welcome ache in her muscles. While the others did their movements, she performed the more advanced forms so that she didn't fall behind. The baby steps that she set them would have been adequate for her when she was about ten.

Mei-li perched neatly on top of a table, resting her chin in her cupped hands and watching for Xue. The other woman emerged after a few seconds, nodding. "Nobody here," she said confidently. "We can talk how we want. Go ahead and say what you want, and we'll be sure to listen." Now that the moment was here, Korra wasn't entirely sure how to say it. Did she just burst out with the series of events—or would it be better to start with her identity, and then that of Tarrlok and Noatak, and then the situation… When she looked up, she saw two people focused on her, diligent and slightly concerned, and waiting. As time passed and she struggled to produce what she wanted to say, Xue spoke up gently. "We think we got an idea of what's troubling you, but we want you to say whatever it is in your own time," she said. "If today's not that day, then that's fine, and you can have another go some other time, all right?"

"No," Korra said, firmly, "it needs to be today." Xue and Mei-li exchanged an utterly incomprehensible look, and Xue nodded. She leaned against the table where Mei-li sat, and the two of them moved close together. "I… well," she said, "I—my name isn't Kanna, to start with." The two of them nodded. Neither looked surprised. "I'm actually… well, I'm Avatar Korra." That got more of a reaction. Mei-li's eyes went wide, and Xue shook her head disbelievingly.

"The Avatar as in all four elements?" Mei-li asked, leaning forward eagerly. "Could you show us? Please do."

"I thought I'd have to prove it," Korra said. "But I actually… can't do all four elements yet. I was learning air when—okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. Would two elements be fine?" They nodded again, reverent. "Fire and water should do it."

"I'll get you a bit of water from the kitchen," Xue said, hurrying off. She returned with an absurdly large pail. It had been a while since Korra had bent water, but the knowledge never left. It had been her first element, after all. With movements that were sure and fluid, she lifted it from the pail and made it dance about a bit for her childishly spell bound audience. They didn't look away for a second until she dropped it back in the pail.

"Stand back," she warned them, ready to make fire. They rushed back to the walls, holding hands in breathless anticipation, and she produced a small burst of flame, making it arc above her head. She loved working with fire. She had missed it, honestly, and the specific type of warmth it gave her. As the fiery trail disappeared, the heat seeped from her, joining the warm air. "Do you believe me?" she asked them, staring at the floor.

"Of course," Xue breathed, and Mei-li nodded emphatically. "Of course we do."

"Then I have some more things to tell you. I… hope that you believe me…"

"Is it to do with the men you travelled with?" Xue asked impulsively. Mei-li looked over at her reproachfully, and she shrugged. "We noticed that you didn't seem comfortable, but we didn't want to say anything—who are they?"

"They are brothers, and they're from the Northern Water Tribe," Korra said. "Arnook is really called Tarrlok—he was a councillor in Republic City up until recently. Noatak was leading an anti-bender group called the Equalists. He was… taking people's bending away," she said, shuddering. "Long story short, I got kidnapped"—she didn't think that she had time to go through the whole fighting with Tarrlok and then the resulting kidnaps and relocations, and it would probably be unnecessarily confusing anyway—"and brought here."

"But you're the Avatar," Xue said, shaking her head.

Korra rubbed the back of her head. "I'm a half-baked Avatar," she said ruefully. "And not a fully realised one anyway. I still haven't mastered air. And… Noatak and Tarrlok are bloodbenders. They can manipulate your blood, make you turn against yourself, and they're really powerful waterbenders. But Tarrlok's working with me now," she added hastily, "against Noatak. He's not _as_ bad, basically."

"What do you need us to do?" Korra grinned. It was nice to work with someone who had the right sort of mind-set.

"Tarrlok and I are going to take Noatak down," she said, deadly serious. "I want to take him back to Republic City to face trial there. I don't want anyone getting hurt in the way. If you could evacuate the people… slowly, so he doesn't really notice what's happening. We're going to fight, and I don't want anyone getting hurt, yeah, but I also don't want people getting in the way." She paused. "And… if I don't see you again, I want you to know that I have really—uh—I've, I guess I've learned some stuff being here. I mean, seeing how people live. And stuff. And I hope that I helped a little bit."

Xue enfolded her in a hug, and after a moment's hesitation, Mei-li joined in, forming a big sandwich. "Nice to have met you too, Avatar Korra," she muttered into Korra's hair. Korra pushed back sniffles, trying to turn them into manly coughs. She'd known them for like a… not very long period of time. This wasn't really emotional. She was being silly.

When they untangled themselves from the mess, Korra sniffled once more and straightened herself out. She had a big fight coming, and sniffling at Noatak wasn't going to help anyone. "Thanks," she said gruffly. They each gave her a resounding pat on the back.

"Buck up," Xue said. "You've still got the fight to go. Kick his arse!"

Korra grinned. "Thanks," she said again, feeling stiff and slightly foolish. "Could you start now? I'll go distract Noatak, if possible. He's pretty clever, though"—however grudging, she could admit that—"so it might be hard. So as quick as you can would be good."

"How far d'you need us to go?"

"As far as possible," Korra said. "Bender battles aren't like normal fighting. I'll try not to fight in the town, but we might have to, and that means falling debris, roofs caving in and that sort of thing. It's… serious. The damage can reach really far." Xue nodded. She turned to Mei-li, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her hip.

"You start with the kids. Take 'em to… the old shop. It's furthest from their house. Organise people there. I'll go and tell the middle people; don't tell the big guns, they'll panic, useless buggers. Off you go, pet." Mei-li drifted out the door, leaving only a warm smile and a vaguely floral smell behind her. Korra watched her go, wondering if they ever would meet again. She hoped that they would. Then it was Xue's turn; Korra received another bracing 'pat' and they had both disappeared off to do the job that she had assigned them.

So it was time for her to go tell Tarrlok that the plan was underway. She hoped more fiercely than anything else—even more than hoping that they would succeed, because they could not possibly succeed if he was having doubts—that he was prepared and ready to fight. Otherwise, she was in some serious trouble.

Walking through the town, she saw Mei-li talking to some children; as she did so, some left the group and trotted off in different directions. Mei-li gave her a wave as Korra passed by, and she waved back. The sense that something significant was happening undeniably charged the air. She had hoped that Noatak would be in the house; he wasn't. Instead, he was walking about outside, right in the way. Korra frowned. How on earth was she going to get him inside without acting suspicious? She paused by the doorway and rested her head against it, looking in his direction. The only thing she could think of right now without yelling at him—an unsubtle strategy—was just to hope that he would come over to her.

"What are you doing?" Tarrlok inquired. Korra jumped, irritated that she hadn't been aware that he was there, and shrugged.

"The plan's underway," she told him in the lowest voice she could manage without it being totally inaudible. "My friends are evacuating the villagers. I need to get Noatak inside, and distract him, but if I'm all nice to him it'll be totally suspicious and he'll know that something's up. What do you think we should do?" As she spoke, she looked him over, conscious that he was the lynch pin to her plan. She _might_ be able to do it alone, but that was an option that she didn't want to contemplate. He looked like he had had a sleepless night, and he'd been haggard before that. Right now, he was leaning against the wall heavily, and it seemed like he might fall over at any moment. "Are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, the question loaded with far too much.

He ran a hand back through his long hair, uncontained as of yet, and shrugged. "I'm still doing this," he said grimly, "so don't keep checking on me." Korra wrinkled her nose. If he felt like he looked, then there should be no surprise about why she was asking. Either way, that was the assurance that she'd wanted, so she would just have to… trust in him. Ugh.

"We make a good team," she blurted out.

Tarrlok stared at her for a second, brow furrowed, in total silence. His expression shifted, morphed, changed, for a few long moments, as he flickered through a range of emotions that she couldn't identify. Eventually, he pushed off the wall to stand up himself, and a small but honest smile grew out of nothing until he looked almost like the Tarrlok that she had known in Republic City—just a little older and lot sadder. "Yeah, we do," he said softly, and then he moved past her and called to Noatak. "We're going to do a little bit of work on the house! Come and help!" Korra nearly went to give him an incredulous stare, and thought better of it. It was a plausible excuse, and one that Noatak would be willing to engage in. But _still_, just as they were about escape and Tarrlok was still on about the damned _house_… She settled for glaring at him instead.

Noatak ambled over, and looked questioningly at Tarrlok. "I thought we might do a bit of work on the house, now that Korra _finally_ got back," Tarrlok said. Korra had to admire how quickly he'd managed to flip the tone; a moment ago he had sounded reasonable, though tired, and now he sounded like he was willing to throw things if nobody did any work. She grimaced, giving the appropriate response, and he made a face right back. "Come on," he snapped. Crossing her arms over her chest resentfully, hoping that her average acting would carry it, she stomped in.

Noatak followed the two of them, with one last, lingering look outside.

* * *

When Korra could take it no longer, she made the excuse of going to get a breath of fresh air, and peered outside to check. She listened, long and hard. The usual noise of the town was gone; the faint sounds that echoed around were absent. It seemed that Xue and Mei-li had successfully achieved evacuation, and now she didn't have to pretend any more. Taking a deep, relaxing inhale, Korra grinned. Time to turn the tables. She had told herself that she would try not to damage the town, but she had made no promises about this fucking house, and she intended to pulverise it and then roll in the ashes.

To start with, she would have to be gentle. Crushing Tarrlok wasn't a good idea. So… where to begin? She regarded the house critically. Maybe if she was inside and pushed it _away_… But the walls were so fragile… Damn. There was nothing for it, but she was going to have to get them out before she got any demolition done.

"Amon!" she called, as loudly as she could, and then waited. "Guess what? I'm going home! Are you going to come and stop me?"

Noatak stepped from the shadows of the doorway and into the light of the harsh desert sun. "You're not going anywhere." As he was most of the time, he seemed perfectly calm. Almost ignoring her, he turned back, and Korra thought that she could just about make out Tarrlok standing behind him. "Another escape attempt," he said affably, "don't worry. You can continue working on the house, and we'll be back in a few minutes."

Tarrlok raised his bowed head. "It's over, brother," he said. The words emerged heavily, and it really did seem like they had physically pained him, but they came.

The exact moment that Noatak realised that the coup really had come to pass showed on his face, and Korra revelled in it. "Checkmate," she said cockily.

Noatak's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms. "Stop this nonsense," he said sternly. "You're both being ridiculous."

Korra grinned. "Come out here and say that."

"_Korra_," he said, as if he were reprimanding a small child. She shrugged, and began the short march to the house. If he wouldn't come out, then she would go and drag him out. "Tarrlok," he said, turning back to his brother. Mid-step, Korra hesitated. "Surely you can't really mean this—I believed you were keeping an eye on her. Did you think that I was unaware of this little plot? I _trusted_ you, Tarrlok. I never thought for a second that you were serious in these childish plans to escape… Are you?"

"Don't listen to him," Korra called. "He's just trying to confuse you; you promised me, Tarrlok!" He was uncertain, she could see it, and he looked between the two of them. In that moment, he seemed tiny, reduced to a pathetic amount of his former influence. When he didn't move she shouted, "You promised me!" again, rawer and angrier.

Noatak held out his hand to his brother. "Stay with me," he urged. "You know that it can work. We can have a family again, Tarrlok, we can build our own family this time. We are so far from any of the poison of that life; we can do whatever we want out here."

This was a little more unreliable than Korra liked. It was unclear which way Tarrlok was going to swing "You have ten seconds!" she called. "Ten, and I'm coming in to rip that house apart. You know that I can do it! I'll bring it down on your head!"

"Be quiet," Noatak snapped. She looked him over, appraising; was he losing control? In a second, he was back to his unruffled self, and her disappointment was nursed with the knowledge that he might be slipping. "You don't have to decide right now," he murmured urgently, as Korra counted. "Just help me subdue her, and we can have a calm and cool conversation in private, without being shouted at."

"TIME'S UP," Korra bellowed gleefully. She hoped that the work outs she'd been doing would be enough, that she was good enough to take him down. Charging headlong and letting her instincts take over, she determined that on the next step she would send forth that earthquake she'd been planning on letting rip. (Some distant part of her checked out the earth's vibrations and was sure that the villagers were far, far away.) Breathing evenly and tidily, Noatak in her sights, she stamped down.

It was as if she'd run into a brick wall. Centimetres off the ground, her foot hovered with an unbearable tension, and her arms were frozen either side of her mid-motion. Only her hair moved, carrying on forwards with the momentum and swinging back round to lash her in the face. She knew this feeling. It was a frequent visitor in her nightmares. Unable to move her head, she looked up as far as she could, and saw Noatak with his arms outstretched in a horrible parody of a waterbending stance.

"Will you be quiet now?" he asked, quite politely. "Kindly allow us to have a conversation."

"You—" she spat. He shook his head sadly and cut her off mid-sentence. The pain that spread through her limbs like fire was enough to dry her words up and distil them into a low grunt. Korra squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to control her body's reaction to the pain, trying to suppress it; in the end, she just rode it out, hoping that Noatak would decide that she had suffered enough at some point.

When she opened her eyes again, the agony draining away, he stood in front of her. They weren't that far from the house and, behind him, she could see Tarrlok standing in the doorway. He still wasn't moving. Korra glared at him with all the venom that she could manage, and he simply looked away.

"You just don't understand when to quit, do you? You _can't_ win," Noatak said, almost gently. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look him right in the face. "You might be the Avatar, but you're _young_, most of all, and the young are foolish, Avatar Korra. No matter how many times you try to escape, no matter how many plots you make, I will always be one step ahead of you—just as I was in Republic City, so I am here. Give in, you stupid little girl." The growing contempt in his voice built the fury inside her until she was angry enough to try and break the bloodbending spell hanging over her. Grunting with effort, she tried to move her hand. More than anything else in the world, she wanted to rip that smug expression off of his face. "Did you believe that a fragile bond like yours would overcome the bond between brothers?" he continued, back to the faux-kind, mentoring tone he liked so much. "I suppose you were trying to bargain with all you had left. See what you are reduced to, Avatar Korra? Grow beyond that. Perhaps without your bending you will be more amenable to moulding. You've caused quite enough trouble with your steadfast trust in your precious bending."

"Shut up," Korra growled.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, sounding vaguely amused rather than angry.

"Shut _up_." She looked over his shoulder, past his warm hands and his strange, mercurial expressions, to where Tarrlok stood. "You _promised_," she mouthed, feeling childish and tiny for being forced to this. She had always known, however much she disliked it, that neither of them could defeat him alone. It would take teamwork. Without Tarrlok, she could not defeat Noatak. With her bending gone, Tarrlok would never be able to get away from Noatak. They had to work as a team. _Come on_, she urged him, _come _on. _Move. You'll never be free of him any other way_.

She became aware that Noatak had been lecturing her when he said, "You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?"

"No," she said defiantly. He sighed, sounding only exasperated, and his warm hands slid off her cheeks with a lingering touch that made her skin crawl.

"Well, then I see no point in continuing this conversation any further. Goodnight, Avatar Korra." With a languorous stretch, he released the bloodbending holding her up like a puppet, and she dropped to the ground. While she was still feeling fairly stunned, he hauled her up. Her head lolled around to one side, only sky spinning above her in a sickly kaleidoscope, and then she felt his hand seeking out that spot by her jaw that would knock her out entirely. The realisation went through her body like an electric shock, and she struggled to get away. Through sheer luck, she managed to kick him in the back of the knees, and he hit the ground heavily.

Her priority was to put some space between the two of them. Her second priority was to yell at Tarrlok some more. "You have to take a side!" she shouted. Noatak stood in between them, collecting himself with frightening speed and getting back to his knees. "Do you want to go back home or not!"

"This _is_ your home," Noatak said. His charisma was fearsome. She had seen how angry he had looked when she sent him tumbling to the ground, and now he looked only defeated, grieving, and hurt. "Make your home with me. I do believe that we can, Tarrlok. If you choose _her_ over your own brother…"

Tarrlok shook his head, and Korra felt a pinprick of hope. Who was he shaking his head at? Her, Noatak—the whole situation? He must be making a choice. "Enough," he said, his voice raspy. "It _is_… over. This… this whole thing—it's over, Noatak." Rage blossomed on Noatak's face, spreading like wildfire, and Korra grinned. Tarrlok saw her expression, and shook his head again. She tried to wipe the smug look off her face; this was a sad moment for him, not a moment of triumph, and the last thing she wanted at this point was to alienate him. "I'll help you as far as Republic City," he said. "That's it."

"Okay," she said, a touch stand-offish. "I get it"

Noatak laughed as they both headed for him. The last thought she had before her brain was swallowed up by trying to stay alive was rage at his laughter—what on earth was he laughing at? He had no right to be laughing at anything.

She had been expecting to be bloodbent again, and true enough, that was his first move. This time, she didn't freeze up; instead, her movements were taken over, and Noatak sent her hurtling forward as a weapon against Tarrlok. He dodged her flailing attempts to shake off the bloodbending, but kept glancing towards Noatak. There was no water in this landscape, unless they managed to fight their way towards the canteen or the well. "Focus," she growled at him.

"I am _trying_," he said snippily, as fussy as ever. "Can't you break free? Try a bit harder."

Noatak sent her in another wild flail towards Tarrlok's head, still laughing in the distance. "If you can't even stop fighting yourselves, how are you ever going to manage to fight me?"

"He's playing with us," Tarrlok muttered, distracted enough that one of Korra's fists nearly connected with his side.

"_Focus_," she hissed.

"I _am,_" he said, and she heard the tell-tale mark of a whine. Her leg shot out with such force that it hurt awfully, and that movement managed to ensnare him. Their limbs tangled, and they both went down. What irritated Korra the most was how amusing this must look to Noatak, how much of a shambles they must appear to be. How… pathetic.

As soon as that had passed, he was pulling her up again, and she was kicking Tarrlok with vicious force. The grunt of surprised pain that he let out was awful, and the low moans that followed were worse. If Tarrlok needed any more proof that his brother was a horrible person, surely this was it. No good person would do this. She couldn't break free of bloodbending. She hadn't been able to the first time, or when Noatak had done it earlier, and she couldn't now, definitely not under these panicked and fraught conditions. "Bloodbend me," she hissed at Tarrlok. She hadn't spoken loudly enough over his groans, and she had to repeat it until he heard.

"What?" he moaned.

"Bloodbend me," she said. "Or him. Distract him. But me first, so I'm not—" Their conversation was cut abruptly short as Noatak noticed it, and renewed his efforts to beat his little brother to a pulp from a distance. Tarrlok tried to roll away, and Korra followed, her arms and legs moving in a way that gained more and more proficient control, movements designed to crush and bruise and hurt. "Me first, so that I'm not—" she tried again, as she got closer. She was whipped around, her neck cracking, to face Noatak. He was walking over. That couldn't be good. Straining her eyes to see where Tarrlok was, she saw him still curled up on the floor, breathing painedly. "_Now_." Tarrlok didn't move. "He's coming over!" There was still no reply. "Tarrlok!" He really didn't look so good. Could he have fallen unconscious? His eyes were shut. Oh, _good_. They hadn't even managed to land a punch on Noatak, and he'd wiped the floor with them. Fuck.

"The young are so energetic," Noatak drawled. "Has that drained off some of your energy?"

"I'll show you energy when I beat you to a pulp!"

"Evidently not," he said, amused. "You have such fire. It would be impressive if it were not so pig-headedly obstinate. You have lost. Give in, Korra." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tarrlok move almost imperceptibly, and hoped that he was regaining consciousness. A stronger movement registered, and her hand moved—twitched, really—and flew out to backhand Noatak viciously across the cheek. Control was still not hers, for that moment, but then it flooded back as Noatak recoiled from the punch, reeling backwards. Tarrlok rolled upwards, and she realised with a pang of embarrassment that he had only been playing dead and she'd been too dense to notice, but she had her own body back and she wasn't going to waste time on beating herself up when Noatak would be quite happy to do that for her.

It was the strangest thing to see two people to fight to bloodbend each other, and she was nearly mesmerised for a moment. Tarrlok was losing, she was sure; Noatak was the far superior bender. His form was better, and he was just naturally stronger than his little brother. Her distraction passed quickly when Noatak turned to her, and she ripped the ground out from underneath his feet. He regained his balance disturbingly fast, but for the moment his concentration was shattered. Korra made a split second decision and, beckoning to Tarrlok, set off at a run for the centre of the town.

They needed water, she reasoned. Maybe it would give Noatak another weapon, but he was more powerful with his bloodbending, so she hoped that he would stay just wielding that. On the other hand, Tarrlok definitely needed something else to fight with. Risking a quick glance back, she saw Noatak in rapid pursuit, and Tarrlok not that far in front of him. Gritting her teeth, she guessed where he would be in a matter of seconds, and brought the earth in front of him in a curved, hopefully very solid wall. The dull thump behind her told her that he had run into it, though not hard, and she redoubled her efforts to flee.

She was incredibly thankful that the well wasn't that far away. Adrenaline coursed thoroughly through her now, inescapable, and it was making her limbs tremble ever so slightly. Tarrlok caught up with her, breathless, panting hard—well, he was old—and looking severely irritated. "We are supposed to be working together," he spat out, in between heaving breaths. "You can't just run off like that—" She cut him off by pointing to the well.

"Let's trip him up," she said. "With a mud-bath."

"Don't be ridiculous. That will backfire on us in seconds."

"I don't see you full of ideas! Come on then, what's your brilliant plan? At least I _had_ one. How are we supposed to take him down?"

"Don't argue with me, you little brat—" he began, launching into a furious and stressed tirade. Somewhat on edge, Korra shouted over him when he wouldn't stop, throwing rude words at him.

"—STUFFY OLD NINCOMPOOP—" she bellowed, hands on hips, furious.

Noatak cleared the corner of the houses, and they both stopped bickering at the same time.

"Knocking him out?" Korra asked, coolly focused. "Blunt head trauma might actually kill him."

"The pressure point. It'll knock him out for a while and then immobilise him. But we'll have to get close enough, and hold him down for long enough to get to it."

Korra looked up at him as Noatak came closer, and nodded. "Okay," she said. It was a reasonable plan.

He looked down at her, expression opaque. "All right," he said.

"Two person pincer movement."

"Sure."

They both moved out, Korra going to the left—away from the well, which he needed more than she did—and Tarrlok going to the right. Noatak slowed to a light jog. He didn't look like he was going to chat this time. In fact, he looked more on the murderous side of things. Korra wondered if he would actually kill them given the chance, and decided that she would really rather not find out. She was tense, wondering if he'd try bloodbending her again, but he seemed more focused on Tarrlok.

In a comfortable position, Korra lashed out, defaulting to firebending. Noatak dispelled the flames with a well-placed kick, and ignored her. She sent wave after wave at him, and he didn't even turn to look at her. He was adequately distracted, though; Tarrlok had reached the well before Noatak had even moved to attack either of them. When Korra punched a trench into the ground, Noatak nimbly leaped out of it, only to have another neat kick from her open a deep, deep ditch below him. He turned to her, furious, and Tarrlok's wave crashed down on his head. For a second, she saw him bow under the pressure, and then she saw the bubble of air begin to grow within the tide. She wasn't sure if this would work within the water, but she tried to bring up four sharp walls around him. They needed some cage to keep him in to reach that pressure point, and it was going to be very hard to keep him restrained for that long.

The walls crumbled as Noatak froze the water around him and sent it outwards in a deadly rain of icicles. He was taunting her with that… Korra contemptuously turned it to soft rain, watching Tarrlok do the same on the other side. When they reformed into icicles at the last minute, Noatak's arms moving sinuously and carefully to orchestrate it, her reflexes were not quite quick enough. Some of them made contact. Knocked off balance, Korra fell. Was she bleeding? She was, in a few different places. She'd managed to dissolve most of the ice back into water, but about five had scraped her, and one had hit her viciously in the leg.

That trick had been solely for her benefit. Tarrlok hadn't been hit at all. Well, screw him. A little bleeding wasn't going to stop her. She rocketed back up to her feet and reassessed where the other two were.

The brothers had returned to trying to gain the upper hand through bloodbending. Noatak was clearly winning; he was taking entire steps forward across the drenched ground to where Tarrlok stood, spasming and twitching violently. She saw his mouth move but couldn't hear the words. Doubtless it was more vicious poison, designed to throw Tarrlok off his game. Over any other noise, she was tuned into the horrible sound that bloodbending made. It echoed in her ears like a drum as she thought quickly—_distract him first, letting Tarrlok go, then strike_.

Noatak ducked well in time to dodge the wave of fire, but he wasn't quite so quick to follow the water that came after that, or the icicles. She was pleased with her quick thinking on that front; she'd filled them with bits of rock. One or two hit him and exploded in a spray of ice and dirt; he brushed them off as if they were nothing, despite the red smear decorating his temple. "Come on!" she taunted him. "Tit for tat, Noatak!"

He shrugged, glancing back to where Tarrlok stood. His brother was bent over, hands on his knees, still recovering. Korra felt a twinge of worry. Was he going to make it much further? "Don't worry; I'll be sure to bandage your wounds when this nonsense is over, though I expect the favour to be returned. You're losing rather a lot of blood, aren't you, Korra? A good Avatar would never let something simple like bleeding to death bother them, I see." His voice was heavy with contempt. Breathing fast, she struggled not to let him get to her. He was trying to get a rise out of her, the exact same thing that she was doing to him. It was fine. She wasn't bleeding to death or any such crap. She was more worried about Tarrlok. Looking behind Noatak, she saw him standing up straight. He was swaying.

"The young are so careless," Noatak remarked. "You have no concern for your own wellbeing in the slightest, do you?"

It was the strangest sensation. It was even odder to watch. He was pulling the blood from her wounds, and it was agonising. Korra screamed, more out of rage than fear or pain, and slammed her foot down into the ground. _Break his concentration_, she thought through the haze. _Knock him off balance_. The flow of the blood changed as he dodged. She was too far away. Tarrlok was still too weak to do anything, and screw him if she couldn't do anything for herself. Korra lashed out again, sending an inferno, a towering blaze of flames out as far as she could. The draw on her veins lessened, and she gasped, a sense of relief flooding through her.

Feeling the vibrations of the earth, she found him, and a timely kick opened a pit below him. Following it up by freezing a solid metre of ice above him and sliding a plate of earth over that, she determined that, for the time being, she had immobilised him. Korra slid to her knees, much less gracefully than she had planned to land, and then fell with a thump onto her side. Okay, if there hadn't really been a danger of bleeding to death before this, there really seriously was now. She needed to stop the bleeding. If that wasn't possible, she needed to slow it down. Gritting her teeth, Korra ripped a generous swathe of fabric off the bottom of her—damned, getting in the way, way too resistant—dress and found the worst of the… punctures.

Noatak had opened up the scrapes to gaping, ugly wounds, and the one on her leg made her swallow uncomfortably. She didn't have much experience with wounds, and they looked _bad_—but how was Tarrlok doing? A rumbling in the earth told her that she didn't have long, but she looked anyway. Tarrlok was making his way over to her, still swaying. She wasn't sure that she'd heard any cracks when Noatak had turned them on each other, but he looked worse off than she was. Maybe Noatak had broken something inside him, damaged veins, because Tarrlok looked awful. Breaking into a shambling, limping jog for the last stretch, he dropped next to her with a loud grunt. His breathing was raspy and laboured.

"Give," he muttered, indicating the fabric. Business-like, she handed over a few bits, and he got to work bandaging other wounds. The earth blew upwards in a spray of dirt where she had tried to deal with Noatak, and he emerged, looking as light-weight and elegant as ever. Korra groaned. For the first time, she really believed that they were going to lose. Tarrlok glanced at her, as he redid the make-shift wrapping on her leg. "We can do this," he said. "There's no going back. And there's two of us, and one of him." Noatak was heading towards them, covered in filth; this time he said nothing, looking only grimly determined.

Korra took a deep breath. "Yeah, whatever," she said, blustering. "Don't worry about me, grandpa. You were the one who was all unsure about this, remember?" To her surprise, Tarrlok gave her a smile. A proper one: not at all bitter, just amused and even vaguely affectionate. He leaned over and kissed her briefly on the top of her head. Korra looked up at him, confused. "Okay?" she said, uncertain.

"All right," he said, getting to his feet. "Come on." They must have made a sorry sight, standing in the centre of all that ruin, but Korra felt better about this than she had before. It wasn't the adrenaline thrumming through her that was fuelling her now; it wasn't uncomfortable worry about Tarrlok, either. She could do this. Aang had faced off the Fire Lord alone. She could do this.

They had a proper plan, where they weren't individual people fighting someone in turn, but a pair working smoothly together. When Korra whipped the earth out from underneath him, Noatak was ready; it was an old trick by this point. He regained his balance in time for Tarrlok to bloodbend him—not enough to strain him, just enough to slow him down, and when the earth rumbled underneath him this time he stumbled, stumbling onto the ice rink that they both slid underneath his feet. Noatak turned it back to water with a contemptuous flick of his hand, but Korra took great pleasure in throwing his own trick back at him and re-freezing it just as he took his first sure step forwards.

What they wanted to was to keep him distracted for long enough that he couldn't bloodbend, and wear him out. It was going too well so far. Korra's body sang with tension, waiting for something to go wrong. Noatak broke the ice that had closed around his feet and threw off the bloodbend bind that Tarrlok tried to throw at him. Korra frowned, judging that he was close enough, and nodded to Tarrlok.

With the little energy they had left, they flew around either side of him again, enclosing him in between them. Much to Korra's pleasure, Noatak did seem to be tiring a little; he moved slightly more slowly than he had before. Tarrlok kept him distracted while Korra planned—and then she struck. She raised the earth just enough to make him stumble; watching carefully, she struck to raise another bump just where he put his foot down next. Noatak openly staggered, and she watched, felt, where he was going next. When he fell and hit the ground as if he were a human being made of mass and not air, she felt an almost unbearable sense of triumph.

She ran, and Tarrlok ran. On the way, Tarrlok froze Noatak, and then Korra trapped him within the ground. It was frightening, and satisfying, to see Noatak roar with frustration, transparently losing his temper. He managed to break one hold and they both flew to secure it again. Korra heard a dull crack, and realised that they might have broken something; if it kept him down, she could feel guilty later. She was stopped in her tracks by a momentary hold on her, bloodbending, and Tarrlok retaliated by hitting Noatak with the same, powerful in his panic. When she couldn't move further, he dragged her along with him.

Noatak was thrashing about violently enough that Korra was worried that they would never be able to subdue him. "Hold him still," she commanded Tarrlok curtly, and he understood her. Sweat beading on his forehead, he tried to bloodbend Noatak into immobility. As Korra darted closer, he broke free once more; she recoiled backwards until Tarrlok had him vaguely under control again. She managed to secure his head, feeling terribly vulnerable the whole time, and found the spot by his jaw.

Noatak went eerily still as he realised that he might well have lost, and then he heaved upwards with more force than Korra would have believed possible. She clung on, her grip around his neck tightening, as he tried to throw her off. She was screaming at Tarrlok to control him, and Tarrlok was shouting at her, and Noatak was making dreadful noises. It felt as if the top of her head had come off, the sky was flying around inside her, and everything blurred into a bizarre mix of reality. Struggling, dizzily unsure, she thought that she might have found the pressure point again. She pressed down harder than she needed to, probably dangerously so, and Noatak swayed. Hopefully, she pressed down even more forcefully.

When he fell, she was crushed underneath him. All the air flew brutally out of her, and she stared upwards, not entirely sure if her eyes were open or not. She was dimly aware that she was shouting at Tarrlok to block Noatak's chi points, _right now_, but she felt so heavy that she cut off mid-sentence. Her vision clouded over with black spots. Gloomily, she knew that she was probably going to faint. If she died now, though, she was going to be _so_ annoyed.

Then the weight on her was hauled off, and she breathed deeply. That sent her nearly too far in the other direction, and she felt awfully light again. They didn't have long, she knew. They had to get out of here. Korra sat up, slowly, to see that Tarrlok was busily blocking Noatak's chi points. He moved like every bone in his body hurt, and she knew that feeling. "We need to get to the train station," she murmured, that quiet tone all that she could manage.

"We have no idea when the next train is coming," Tarrlok said. "Do you even know what direction it's in? I don't remember." Korra groaned, and dropped her head into her lap.

"Look, we just need to get him back to Republic City," she muttered into her legs. Blood had blossomed across the quick bandage they'd slapped on, and she was willing to bet that wasn't a good thing. Across from her, Noatak was regaining consciousness, though he didn't look like he was going to move any time soon. Remembering how that pressure point felt, she didn't envy him.

"_Just_," Tarrlok said, laughing a little underneath his breath.

Korra leaned back, lying down with a thump and feeling the relief in every aching muscle. "We got this far. I know we can do it."

Tarrlok looked across her, something unreadable in his expression. "I think we might be able to, as well," he said softly. She met his gaze, and held it for what felt like the longest time. Then Noatak coughed and spluttered to real life between the two of them, and reality faced them once more. "The train station," Tarrlok said, determined.

With a groan, Korra clambered back to her feet. She was light-headed, sure, but she could do this. "Let's go home," she said.

"Let's go back to your home," Tarrlok said, without the slightest trace of bitterness.

* * *

**a/n: **This is the end of the road, folks! When I was writing this fic-I finished it some months ago-I was rapidly running out of energy, and I didn't want to leave it unfinished. There was originally another arc planned; I might come back and write it as a sequel, I might not, but at least it has an ending rather than languishing unfinished forever (like those fics that are _last updated__: 2009_ and you just want to bay at the moon).

As for other work, I have done Amorra Week twice, Amorralok week, and I'm thinking of doing a very late Korrlok week set of drabbles; I also have assorted drabbles that are not on this website. I could go through and put those up if anyone's interested; probably mainly for posterity, though, since the community's dwindled significantly. So I am not done with Amorra or Amorralok (though my update schedule will probably be just as erratic as ever)! One of the prompts involves spanking, for one thing, and I would be quite happy to revisit that.


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